


just LISTEN!

by cyndrat



Series: Detroit: Reverse Roles [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Android Gavin Reed, Android Hank Anderson, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Gen, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Role Reversal, Swearing, Violence, emotions are confusing, handwavy tech, light on the comfort, self-harm ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16062218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndrat/pseuds/cyndrat
Summary: In which Nines and Gavin butt heads... a lot... and it puts them in danger while on a case.Set within this series and the 'verse I've built up here, but also works on its own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> teaser/preview chap pretty much.... because Breaking Routine has been up for just about 24 hours and already has 43 kudos??!! like seriously, that was just me fulfilling my need for occasional fluff, but I'm so pleased there are so many of you out there who are enjoying it
> 
> set between the last two chapters of 'Roleswap', after Nines has had ~a week and a bit trying to work with Gavin, and before they've started to get along.

"Would you just fucking listen to me?" Nines is - well, furious seems like an appropriate word for the anger churning and growing within his gut. Reed sneers in the face of his emotion and turns to walk to the door. Nines snaps a hand out, grabbing the android's arm, his fingers wrapping around his shirt just below the blue armband. "We have to have a plan, or we're both gonna get killed!"

"I have a plan, dipshit," Reed says, shaking his arm free. " _You_ aren't listening to _me_."

"That's because your plan is a disaster waiting to happen. I'm not a fucking android like you, I can't recalculate everything in the fraction of a second!" Nines wants to throw his hands in the air. They don't have time for this - well they do, sort of, but arguing is eating up the few minutes they have left to get their shit together.

Reed spins around, shoves Nines against the wall with one arm levered across his throat. "Listen the fuck up. It'll work, I've mapped the building and the heat signatures, and we already know what to expect from the other scenes where we were too fucking slow to save anyone. Alright? That's fucking all." The android pushes off of Nines and strides to the one door they managed to agree on as their best choice of entrance. Nines hustles to catch up, swallowing to work past the lasting impression of Reed's forearm. They're gonna have one hell of a talk after they've gotten through this. Even if Nines has to take all the shit cases in the department for a year, he'll do it if it gets this asshole off his back.

Reed's already stepped through the door when Nines reaches it, and he presses his lips together, quelling a sigh while pulling his gun from his hip. He can barely remember Reed's plan, the android had rattled off instructions quickly and without as much context as Nines likes to enable him to visualize the strategy and actually understand it. Connor's always been so much better at that. He should hold a workshop sometime, maybe. Sharing techniques and all that shit. At least Reed had shared the blueprints he'd dug up a few hours ago, plenty of time for Nines to memorize the lay of the building. The android isn't completely useless in the face of an actual investigation, thank god, but it's been weeks and they're still struggling to collaborate instead of being at each others' throats.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this 'verse, Nines is ambidextrous... typically prefers his left hand for everything, but is also adept with his right. [Connor is sort of ambidextrous too, though prefers one hand or the other for particular things - he writes with his right, shoots a pistol with his left, texts with left... etc. so C is more 'mixed-hand dominance' rather than true ambidextrous]

Nines _was_ intending to work his way through the main floor, keeping an eye out for their perps and for any new victims, but it's obvious once he's cleared the first two rooms that Reed has made his way to a different floor. He pauses for a moment, listening for anything-

Voices that quiet suddenly, upstairs. A loud swear that could only have come from his reckless partner. Nines sighs and spins, heading back towards the stairs. He takes them as quickly as he dares, noting that there are no lights on in the upstairs hallway, but the room at the end of the hall has its door open. Yellow light spills through the doorway, painting Reed's still shadow against the floor.

And isn't that something, the NK900 standing silent and stock still for once. It's nice, and Nines wonders what made him freeze at the same time that he notices the awkward way Reed is standing, one foot half raised and his hands in the midst of some action. Something is wrong.

"What do we do with the fucker now?" Nines hears, and he creeps up the last few steps, shuffling to the edge of the hall. It certainly sounds like Reed has located their perps, and it sounds like they weren't entirely prepared for his presence. That's good, means they don't necessarily expect Reed to have a partner in the building. Nines takes a few steps forwards and ducks into a doorway. Their perps don't appear to be aware of anything aside from Reed's frozen figure.

"It's carrying a gun, shoot the tincan goddamnit, what else?"

Upon hearing the order, Nines lunges forwards out of the shadow. He wraps an arm around Reed's waist and hauls the unresponsive body off to the right side of the hallway, hearing a thunk as the android's head hits the wall, the sound nearly drowned out by a series of shots flying past them. "What the hell's wrong with you?" Nines hisses, shifting his stance to look over his shoulder. To look at the humans who are huddled behind bits of furniture, light glinting off a dozen some guns.

"Dis-dis-ruptor f-f-f-f-f-f-f-field." Reed's voice is staticky and glitching out like a stutter, LED whirring a frantic red. "Can't-can't- It's screwing up up up up up m-my UI con-con-controlllll." He gasps, and his body is damn near vibrating beneath Nines. "Oth-th-th-th- other shi-i-it t-too." Nines sets one hand solidly between Reed's shoulder blades and leans back. He raises his gun, chooses one of the targets presented by the telltale metal barrel aimed at them, then another, and takes two careful shots. His chosen targets both collapse. Two attackers down.

"Backup," he says in a sharp whisper, before crowding Reed flush against the side of the hallway. Nines presses his forehead against the wall above the android's shoulder as shots continue to ring out behind him. "Can you call anyone?" The LED flashes, yellow shining against the wall briefly, then returns to red. Reed jerks his head sideways.

"One c-c-c-c-city block ra-ange," he stutters. "Can't-can't get-t-t-t any more dist-distance without exiting the the the the the the the the-th-th-th-" A creak sounds as Reed gnashes his teeth together, words dissolving into static.

"The disruptor field," Nines says, finishing his statement quietly. "Well, fuck me." He's got one glitchy prototype, eleven people shooting at them, zero way of requesting help, and a single pistol. Two, assuming Reed still has the standard DPD issue Nines had insisted he carry tonight. At least the room their assailants are in is arranged such that no one has a clean shot at him without putting themselves at risk - there is at least one fucking moment of luck in the disaster he predicted.

It's unlikely he'll be able to take out all eleven in the room, not without Reed's assistance. Surrender is the _very_ last option, so really, the only choice is going backwards - escaping. Reed's body had locked up a few steps from the doorway, so if Nines can lug him back a little ways, the influence of the disruptor field should lessen enough to allow the android to move on his own. Assuming there are no lasting effects - but he has no way to begin estimating that likelihood, so he'll have to cautiously plan on Reed being mobile.

Nines raises his head and gun, picks off one more assailant with practiced precision then scans the room to check if any of them have moved. Negative on that, thank god. "Here's the plan. I'm going to drag you back down the hall, you say something when you regain sufficient control of your limbs to run. Then we get the fuck out of here, call for backup teams, and lay fucking low until reinforcements arrive. Got it?"

"Bu-but there's- th-th-th-th-th-there should be be be b-be more vic-vict-vict-t-t-"

"The situation's different, if we don't haul ass _we're_ gonna be the victims needing saving." _You aren't gonna close any cases from a hospital bed._ Or worse - but it doesn't seem like Reed has gotten the stakes through his plastic skull yet. "We're fucking doing it my way. _Got it?"_

"F-f-f-f-f-ine," Reed hisses, something in his throat clicking. That doesn't sound good, but Nines doesn't know what the fuck he can do for the android, except get him the hell out of the disruptor field's range of effect.

Nines takes a quick breath. Adjusts his grip around Reed's waist, hopes really damn hard that he can carry the android's weight however far that he needs to, then takes a step back, turning Reed around so they're facing each other and pulling him off the wall. He shoots at the overhead light in the room to shatter it, one, two, three of the assailants, then he turns and runs back down the hall, literally lifting Reed off his feet. It's a good thing Nines is as tall as he is.

There are shouts from the room, and scuffling as the men realize what's happening. They hurry to follow a moment later.

"F-f-f-f-f-f-fucking put me me me down." Reed's voice is still glitching, but he's smacking Nines' shoulder with one hand, proving that some mobility has returned. Nines puffs a quick sigh but complies, shifting awkwardly to set Reed down and pushing him forwards. The android stumbles his first few steps then his legs work better, carrying him rapidly forwards.

"Down the stairs, go," Nines orders, glancing back as Reed reaches the top of the steps. The hall is incredibly dark without the room's light, and that's probably why they're hardly getting shot at now - Nines had definitely taken out three of their number, possibly up to six, and it seems their assailants would rather not lose any more to friendly fire. And with Reed lurching down the stairs first, the blue glows on his uniform don't make him a visible target anymore. "Back out the way we came in," he says softly, trusting Reed's audio receptors to pick up the words.

Their assailants are slowly making their way along the hall while Nines is starting down the stairs after Reed, but he catches a few mutters. Some of them turn, opening a door to another room, and the auto-light in the room illuminates the hall for a second before the door is dragged closed. He worries for a moment, wondering if there's another set of stairs - but no, the blueprints had only showed one staircase between each floor.

Reed stumbles on the bottom step, and Nines refocuses. The goal right now is getting out of the house, an objective the android seems well enough focused on as he rounds the stairs and his figure moves out of view. Nines hears a loud swear and hurries down the stairs, leaping down the last few steps. He moves forward just far enough to see Reed - the android did not get very far, currently pressed against the wall of an open-doorway room, LED cycling yellow with flares of red. Reed squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, then opens his eyes and leans out to peer into the hall. An honest to god knife comes sailing towards him, passing by an instant after Reed moves back to the safety of the room.

Nines blows out a slow breath, leans out into the hall himself. There's two people at the end of the hallway, a few yards away from the door he intended them to exit through. One appears to be a woman, and she's standing slightly in front of a shorter man. Streetlight coming in through the windows glints off something in her hand. The woman is throwing the knives, while the man is fussing with something, a tablet perhaps.

"N-" Reed starts, but Nines is moving, bolting across the hall and past Reed into his room before the next knife flies past. Nines settles against the wall, taking a moment to calculate how many shots he's got left. Five, not counting the thirteen rounds in Reed's righty pistol. "F-f-fuck Nines, didn't you you clear th-th-the f-f-f-first f-floor?"

He sighs, tipping his head back against the wall. Back at each other's throats it is. "No, I had to chase after your dumb ass before I was done!" The retort doesn't make him feel any better, or any less tired. God, this has been a gong show, and they're not even out yet! "You got another great plan that'll get us out of here?" Reed is silent, and when Nines looks at him, he sees the android is pouting. "Fine. She only had two more throwing knives visibly accessible. Can you intercept them?" Reed nods hesitantly, but Nines is sure the android is capable. "Then let's go." He grabs Reed's arm and shoves him out into the hallway, following close.

So he maybe uses the android as a shield. Reed's professed his ability to take more hits than a human on a semi-weekly basis - the bragging is good for something, it's how Nines knows as much as he does about Reed's widely varying abilities. One of which is fast reaction speed, which the android exhibits when he bats away a knife, sending it clattering against the wall instead of inplanting itself in either of their bodies.

They move slowly, but the woman seems cautious about throwing what Nines is increasingly confident is her last knife. "Start moving faster, try to bait her," he breathes, releasing Reed's arm and raising his gun. The android performs well, picking up speed as he moves down the hall, Nines following. Reed lunges towards the woman, and she hurries backwards in response, dragging tablet guy along with her.

The two have disappeared into the kitchen by the time Nines reaches the end of the hall, and he turns, keeping his gaze on the doorway. They stay out of sight, but there's a shout from the direction of the stairs. Nines turns further, and sees half a dozen figures in a clump by the foot of the stairs.

"Reed," he hisses, hearing an ominous click behind him. Where the android is.

"F-f-f-f-f-fu-fuck, I-I'm- The the the the-the-th-th the dis-dis-rup-"

With a quick glance, Nines sees that Reed's limbs are starting to lock up again. He swears, steps backwards until his reaching hand touches Reed's back. He shoves, expecting the android to stumble under the force but not expecting the staticky, whimpering gasp. "Get to the goddamn door." Someone must have moved the focal point of the disruptor field, because Reed was fine until just a moment ago. Nines can see that the humans from the second floor are still huddled together, not advancing on them and not shooting either. He glances back at Reed, still trying to move towards the door, and spins about, grabbing Reed's arm and half lifting the android again.

Nines is aware of someone coming round the wall from the kitchen, and he lets go of Reed to grab them, pulling then shoving as hard as he can. They yelp, stumbling forwards down the hall, and there's a series of exclamations before the sound of multiple bodies crashing to the ground. Even better than he'd hoped.

Except Reed yelps suddenly, jerking backwards - they must be getting farther from the disruptor field emitter - and blue sparks erupt on the middle of the android's face. Nines swears, seizes his partner's arm, propelling him forwards. They're so damn close- but of course him bowling down several of their assailants with one of their own number just gave someone else a clear shot at them, what else can fucking go wrong? He pushes Reed one more step, then moves around him and rams his shoulder against the door. It opens easier than it did earlier, and Nines reaches back for Reed, pulling him through the doorway with him, on to the large porch.

"Get a move on, I'll cover you," he says, watching the android stumble down the single step. Mobility has sufficiently returned. He turns back to the door at the sound of glass breaking. "Go Reed, that's a fucking order," he bites out, feeling a sudden flare in his left shoulder. He'd completely forgotten about the multiple windows, but Nines forces down any sound at the injury, needing Reed to keep moving. He shakes out his left arm, grimaces and switches his gun to his right hand. He's usually a better shot with his left, but the pain radiating from his shoulder probably equalizes it right now. He has five rounds left - or was it four? no, five - and the nearest parked car is a few houses over, too far.

There's a chair on the porch. Nines hurries over to it, flinches when someone shoots through a window again. He holsters his gun and drags the chair over, propping it under the handle of the door before moving away from the door, daring to turn towards the street. That'll give them some time, enough time to-

Something collides with his legs, and he pitches forward, crashing to the ground. What the hell? He kicks the thing away - the chair, which means they've busted through the door - and staggers to his feet. Fuck.

New pain blossoms in his thigh and his steps falter. _Double fuck_ \- that didn't feel like a gunshot, that felt like a blade and _goddamn it hurts-_ He takes a step, and makes a sound, his vision whiting out for an instant. And then someone's grabbed his arm, his shoulder- fuck, his injured shoulder- and he's crashing down again, distinctly feeling his skull hit ground.

He's- he needs to get up, needs to… to fight back, get these hands off of him because for all of Reed's posturing and bragging the android _needs_ someone who can handle him… Nines flails, hitting a body, but there's not nearly enough power behind the movement to make a difference. He needs to fight back… needs to…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops a cliffhanger?  
> I've been sitting on this with just a few 'linkage' bits left for a couple days, slowly chipping away at it, but here y'all go.  
> casually avoids writing a linkage bit and POV switch by plaCinG a CHapTeR brEAK  
> also i did some research on guns and stuff?? and amalgamated the results of said research into deliberately vague (but accurate I hope!!) terminology, as seemed reasonable


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter, here y'all go...  
> I foresee two more chaps definitely, possibly three or four.

Nines is- wait, where the fuck is Nines?

Gavin lurches about, legs still refusing to work properly. The detective isn't there. He'd been right fucking behind him, had been pushing and pulling him to get out of the house, so where-

Fuck. _Fuck._ He sees Nines, limp on the house's sidewalk as two of their perps lift his body.

Something runs through Gavin's system, and he catalogues the unfamiliar ~~emotion~~ series of physiological effects for consideration at a later time while his vision cuts out for two milliseconds.

**< SYSTEM STASIS: recommended**

Like hell. He trashes the recommendation, because now is so not the time. No, right now he needs to get back to the house, back to Nines who is clearly injured-

**> GUNSHOT Ẅ̷̜̜͍̖͖͋̾̚͘͘O̴̻̱̲̱͐͜͠ͅŲ̸͎͙̺͓͉̣̲͙́͑͌N̵̢͙̱̪̼̲̰̳̰̔͋̆̈́̅̎̅͝D̵̟̤̺̃̍̓̂ͅ ̵̛͍̑̈͗͑̔͘͠ON LEFT SHO̴̪̖̹̞͈̗̅͌̌ͅƯ̷̡̞̖͍͗̈́̑̎̚͜Ľ̴͇͇̖͋̿͛́̇̚Ḑ̸̢̡̬͇̟̺̗̍̓E̷̯̫̻͋̕͝͝Ṛ̷̣̻̪̬̏͋̂̾**

**> ̷̘̺̜̫́̓͐̈́̍̈́͘CUT ON ̶̮͓̘͙̱̤̜̽̈́̐͒͊͠LEFT ̸͕̪̻̳̫̤͈̙͗̑̿̑̏Ö̸͓̣̯̩̩́̅͊̅͌͐U̷̧̝͙̜̣̇̋̿͋͒͘̚T̸̛̪̲̭͎̤̺͖̼̼̩͗͌̔͌́E̷͔͔̙̞̣͖͑̾̃͋̅͑̈́̄̀̚R̶̝̆̾ ̷̡̳̜͛̅̈́͑̊͆̓́̕ͅTHIGH**

**> ̷̵̘̺̜̫̟̥̘͖͚̼́̓͐̈́̍̈́̈́͘̚̚ͅCƠ̴͚̖͝N̵̡̤̖͉̥͇̙̙̆́͂T̴̩͔̖̥̺̆ͅŲ̷̭͕̪̄̍͆͒̐̓Ṥ̵̺͚̣̝͍͗́̃͗̓̓** **▒▓█**

Something's wrong with his assessment program, or with his HUD, because he's never seen notifications with that weird font obscuring the information. But he gets the idea - Nines is injured, has sustained _multiple_ injuries, and he fucking needs help.

But Gavin can't- There are red lines criss-crossing his vision, like some kind of cage made up of code- Actually, he realizes that's exactly what it is. **GO REED, THAT'S A FUCKING ORDER** flashes in front of him and he takes a staggered step back. The red lines fade in their intensity, but strengthen immediately when he tries to move forwards. Fucking hell. He's been disobeying stupid orders left and right since he was first paired up with Anderson, why can't he break through this one now?

**< SYSTEM STASIS: recommended**

Fuck, no, go away! He isn't going in to fucking stasis, he has to get Nines- no, he won't be able to break through the order this time. If he can't do it himself, he'll have to contact someone else. He takes a few unbalanced steps, tucks his body in between a pair of parked cars.

**> >CALL FOR BACKUP**

That he can do. He closes his eyes, sets a diagnostic to run that is also set to auto-fix shit, and he tries to locate the nearest patroller. He comes up with nothing, no one - his range is still somewhat fucked. Hank - can he reach the NK800? They're more familiar with each other than with any other androids, maybe that familiarity and common communication can bypass the shitty range he currently has-

Nope. Gavin opens his eyes to glare at the car in front of him. Wait - everything looks red. Is his field of vision screwed too, tinting the world red- No, the diagnostic has brought a series of error messages to the forefront. He starts dismissing errors, but they keep popping up as fast as he's going through them. He sucks in a breath, tries to set up a cataloguing system for the error messages, so they go into neat piles instead of flooding his vision.

**< SYSTEM STASIS: recommended**

_That one_ he dismisses, again, just as his vision goes grainy, then cuts out completely for two point five seconds. When it comes back, the errors are organized - until he gasps in another breath and they scatter.

What the fuck? Why is he spending processing power on an unnecessary function like breathing? It's wasteful while his system is struggling to fix the malfunctions and inconsistencies the disrupter field has left him with, so he focuses on _not_ taking in air, and it only takes a moment before he's stopped the nonessential action.

He barely notices a series of cool and calm notifications that slip across his vision, small and rapidly overtaken by the continued influx of red errors. They're ignored in favour of attempting to sort the messages again.

**< SYSTEM STASIS: required**

**…**

**~~Denied~~ **

**> Denial overridden**

**_> Goodnight NK900_ **

**< EMERGENCY SYSTEM STASIS: initiated 22:31:11>**

**…**

**…**

**< SYSTEM COOLDOWN: acceptable temperature levels achieved>**

**< EMERGENCY SYSTEM STASIS: ended 22:33:57>**

**_> Hello NK900_ **

His eyes snap open as he straightens, remembering the slew of errors and simulated adrenaline and standing ready to defend against a threat-

That is not there.

He was in stasis for two minutes and forty-six seconds, but there is presently no thermal sign of any humans in the immediate area - no assailants, and no Nines. He stands, using the back bumper of the van behind him to help lever his body up. He feels… sticky, his joints feel sticky, most likely a lasting effect of that damned disruptor field. He blinks, attempting to reset his optic system, but something there seems to have sustained a detrimental effect as well. Fucking fantastic, he'll have to launch a rescue of his partner with a slightly grainy, greyscale field of vision.

Rescue.

Gavin staggers down the street, away from The House and back towards the car Nines had driven them from the precinct in. He unlocks a single door and climbs in, collapsing into the passenger seat. He feels - tired. A brief consideration of system statuses tells him that he'll have to go into a proper stasis later in order to properly reset all the damage the disruptor field has caused. But for now, he's functional, and he's got an objective.

**> RESCUE DETECTIVE ANDERSON**

**> >CALL NK800 DESIGNATION 'HANK' >Request reinforcements**

And a sub-objective it seems, likely left over from Nines' earlier instructions that he had been unable to comply with, though not for lack of trying. He locks the car door then closes his eyes, blocking out the distraction of his impaired vision. His LED whirs as he sends a communication ping to Hank.

 _'Yes Gavin?'_ the older android says almost immediately.

 _'I n-n-need backup. Stat,'_ he says, knowing his words sound perfectly neutral but for the minor glitching. He hasn't quite figured out how to imbue his voice with the subtle emotionality Hank seems to have already ingrained within his programming.

 _'You okay?'_ Hank has perked up, and Gavin gets a vague sense of the NK800's actions as he gets up with the purpose of fetching the Lieutenant.

 _'F-f-f-f-fucking no we're not.'_ Hm, that might be a slightly different tone in his statement there - though the stutter makes it difficult to assess properly _. 'Get th-the f-f-fuck over here, send anoth-oth-other team too,'_ he says, almost an order. Hank acknowledges the request and cuts the communication. Gavin blinks twice as he compiles then sends a brief report summing up the situation to Hank. The sub-objective flickers away, and he's left with a wait now. He taps his fingers on one leg for a moment, then sets a timer, calculating fastest route from Hank's location and extrapolates an expected arrival time **|11:10:20|**. Then he turns his attention to the malfunctioning processes. Surely he can resolve some of them himself.

**> MOTOR FUNCTION PATHWAY PARTIALLY CORRUPTED**

**> OPTIC OUTPUT DISTORTED**

**> VOICE MODULE IMPAIRED**

**|11:05:04|**

He sets a fresh diagnostic to run in the background and considers the Motor Function corruption. It's a problem, more so than the other issues he's noted, because if he can't move properly, then he can't rescue and protect his partner. And while he knows Hank's on the way with Lieutenant Anderson, and another pair too, the humans can't sync up and get the information he has to offer within a few seconds. Which means they're going to need him in there.

**|11:00:45|**

He should probably move the countdown timer, should minimize and relegate it to one corner of his visual field so it isn't as distracting… but he finds he isn't fond of the idea of hiding it away even a little bit.

A brief query suggests… anticipation, anxiety. He dismisses the tentative conclusions, but doesn't move the countdown.

**|10:59:58|**

It's calming, seeing the extrapolated arrival time, so it might as well stay large and above right centre.

Gavin refocuses, closing his eyes in the safety of the car. He investigates **MOTOR FUNCTION PATHWAY PARTIALLY CORRUPTED** , pulls up a diagram and overlays the relevant portions of diagnostic.

There's… a lot going on there. He hums thoughtfully, wincing at the crackle in the sound. Anyways. The diagnostic is still running, so it might turn up more issues, but he starts in on what it has already highlighted, separating out any physical problems. His system will work on those automatically, if it can, and if it can't, those'll have to wait. Most of the issues, however, appear to be command pathways, and software that's corrupted around the edges, introducing just enough distortion into the usual running of things to be a problem.

It's clever, that disruptor field, and Gavin is hit with a sudden sense of gratitude that he's a specialized prototype - a simpler model would be overwhelmed into shut down almost before they realized what was happening. That's probably why no one chased after him, because if they've only had experience with typical household models, they would have learned quickly how long to expect before a system-forced shutdown and they would have expected that he would be completely useless right now. _Not,_ he thinks viciously.

He flicks his attention to the countdown.

**|8:45:31|**

He's been focusing on **MOTOR FUNCTION PATHWAY PARTIALLY CORRUPTED** for over two minutes, but he hasn't made significant progress. Perhaps he should work on something else - but he _needs_ to be able to move. Fuck.

Maybe the auto-fix will deal with some of the issues - there really isn't much he can actively do with his motor function without using additional tech that he definitely doesn't have. He's got eight and a half minutes til backup arrives, and he's got a full auto-fix diagnostic running. He doesn't have much else.

Actually, he's got an abrasion across his face that is still sluggishly seeping Thirium 310 and he's pretty sure Nines keeps a box of tissues shoved in the console between the seats. He flips down the sun visor and immediately sees his face in the mirror. He looks like a mess, Thirium spattered across his cheekbones and dripped down over his chin. His shirt must be godawful too, but at least the fabric is dark enough that the blue probably just fades in.

Time to decimate a box of Kleenex.

There's a muted thrill at the thought of Nines returning to his car and finding that his stash of tissues has been ravaged, so Gavin lets himself indulge for a few seconds, imagining the reaction.

That'll be fun to see. But first his partner has to come out of that house intact.

A sliver of something unpleasant chases away the thrill, and Gavin starts daubing at his face instead of trying to identify the emotion. He doesn't like it, and he'd rather not feel it again, thus, identifying it is unnecessary.

The emotion is proving harder than most to ignore, but Gavin does his best, focusing on cleaning up his face, even reaching into the back seat to grab a water bottle and crack it open. That graze broke the synthetic skin across the bridge of his nose, and as he swipes a dampened tissue across the skin, he spots blue sparks. It scraped through his casing too then, leaving a jagged slash of wiring exposed to the air. Fucking fantastic, that might actually leave a lasting mark, because right now he's got his auto-fix on but the default setting is higher priority issues, like his fucking mobility. And if the wiring is left exposed for too long, it'll self-cauterize and his synthetic skin won't seal over it properly.

He sighs, wipes away the last of the Thirium and stares at himself in the mirror for a moment. He almost looks… tired. At the thought, a message pops up.

**> FULL SYSTEM STASIS: recommended**

**> FULL SYSTEM STASIS: required within: 28:35:21:14**

Yeah, yeah, he'll get to that eventually. He's got 28 hours until his system will force a shutdown again, plenty of time to rescue Nines, get his human taken care of, and figure out a decent place to spend several hours in full stasis.

He checks the countdown.

**|3:29:50|**

Headlights flash against the House - a car is pulling on to the street. Gavin tenses, sinks back into the seat and pings Hank questioningly.

 _'We're here,'_ the older android announces, and Gavin relaxes. They're more than three minutes earlier than he'd calculated - though if Hank has shared Gavin's report with Connor, it is… understandable that the Lieutenant may have driven faster than the rules of the road allow. Fuck, he's going to have to interact with the Lieutenant, isn't he. That's not likely to go very well.

He swipes a hand through his hair, glances into the mirror again, then pushes the sun visor back into it's resting position. The Lieutenant's classic car pulls to the curb behind Nines' car, and Gavin unlocks the door, getting out to lean against the side of the car while he waits for the classic to go into park.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enterrrrrrr the rest of the cast  
> kind of a dull feeling chapter, to me at least? but here it is!

"What the fuck is up with you?" Lieutenant Anderson's question is sharp, accusatory. Understandable - he is likely experiencing some level of emotional compromise. Never mind the fact that the Lieutenant and Gavin have been antagonistic to each other almost constantly since their first interaction, more so even than Gavin has been with Nines.

"Dis-ruptor f-f-f-field," he says shortly as explanation. Hank's eyebrows raise, then he frowns, tilting his head as he runs a scan on Gavin.

Hank steps closer, reaches out one hand. "Can I see?" Gavin shrugs even as he takes the offered hand, both their skin peeling back to initialize a direct interface. He focuses on the feelings as he realized that his limbs were locking up, when he tried to call out but was met with a dead static outside of his restricted range, the way his vocal module has been malfunctioning, his grainy vision. He's sure other stuff slips over-

_Stuck, can't move, fuck-fuck-fuck-_

_Nines' body pressing him against the wall as he shoots their assailants-_

_Gavin's thermal mapping is fully functional, and he can see when two fall to the ground, then two more-_

_Nines carrying him, pushing him forwards, grabbing his arm, pushing again-_

_The detective turns his back to their assailants, half-carries Gavin to the door, pushes him through_

_Nines orders him to keep moving-_

_'Go Reed, that's a fucking order'-_

_Nines limp on the sidewalk, Nines grabbed by their perps, Nines carried away from him and into that damned house-_

_His vision red with overlapping errors as he tries to call someone, to call Hank, gulping in air he shouldn't need, optic system cutting out-_

_Stasis._

He stumbles backwards, breaking the connection. That… was way more than he intended to convey to the other android. Hank blinks at him, expression shifting to sympathy for an instant before he turns to the Lieutenant.

"The disruptor field should not affect my system as significantly, though some functions may be decreased. Reed won't be able to go in too far though, or he'll get stuck again."

"Stuck?" Connor queries quietly, frowning.

"A disruptor field like this one would likely shut most models down within a few seconds. Reed and I are specialized prototypes; as such, we are affected to a lesser degree. When he got too close to the focal point of the disruptor field, his motor functions experienced a considerable malfunction, and he became unable to move under his own power."

"J-jesus," Gavin grumbles, "it sounds weird when you say it like that." Hank turns a purposefully confused, naïve look on Gavin, and an amused huff works its way out of his mouth. "Sorry, I'm just-" Hank nods, as if he understands. Fuck, maybe he does, he'd been on the front lines of the deviancy investigations, then the revolution, and Gavin knows a fair number of the choices the older android had needed to make. "Is th-the-there anyth-th-thi-thing you could do?" Gavin asks suddenly. He knows he can alter his own programming and such, within some limits, and it's likely Hank can alter it too. "To me," he clarifies, "to stop th-th-th-the diss-ruptor f-field f-from af-f-f-fecting me so much?"

Hank's expression turns contemplative. "Possibly… We know that your code is a 69% match with mine, and another 22% is mostly just arranged differently." He stares past Gavin for a moment as his LED flicks yellow - one of those quirky actions CyberLife had left in the NK800 but had ironed right over in the NK900 - then nods slowly. "We have some time, I would be able to take a look, at least."

"F-f-fucking do it," Gavin says, straightening his shoulders. "I don't wanna be com-completely us-seless while my partner needs me." Connor's eyes flash to Hank, the two sharing a look for longer than necessary before Hank looks back to Gavin, nodding.

"I won't risk messing anything up though - if I think there's too much danger of that, I'm going to stop. Clear?" Gavin nods quickly, anticipation manifesting in the way he starts to rub his fingers together. CyberLife may have gotten rid of a number of quirks, but he's developed a few of his own. "We've got three minutes and twenty-one seconds until Chris and Tina arrive. Lieutenant, keep an eye out."

"Got it," Connor says, pivoting so his back is to the androids, eyes scanning the street. Hank holds out a hand again, and Gavin takes it without a moment of hesitation. He takes a mental step back, into something resembling a light stasis as Hank sorts through his programming, beginning to realign things after brief consideration.

**|22:51:34|**

**…**

**…**

**|22:54:02|**

Gavin opens his eyes, not feeling 'sticky' like before, but almost… off-balance. He blinks, noting that his vision is still greyscale as he reviews what Hank had adjusted. Things he wouldn't have thought of, really, though it's possible that Hank had tried to make him more similar to an NK800's systems.

"I didn't chance anything with your optics," Hank says, watching his reaction. "Those're simpler, so there's less that could be changed. There's a physical impairment in your vocal module, but nothing in your programming that seems to contribute to the glitching."

"F-f-fucking repair centre, th-th-then." Hank nods, his expression almost… sympathetic? No, it's an emotion that's directed inwardly, not at Gavin. He runs a search, and the best fit seems to be disappointment. Or regret. "F-f-f-ine, whatever. Th-the oth-th-th-thers here yet?"

Headlights flash against the side of the car, and Connor tenses. "It's them," Hank says, voice low, and the Lieutenant's shoulders relax. He steps forwards, waves them down. The plain cruiser rolls to a stop behind Nines' car and Tina hops out, Chris following a second later.

"What's going on?" Tina asks, sweeping her eyes over the three, then freezing and looking back to Gavin. "Where's-"

"That's what's going on," Connor answers. His gaze looks heavy for a moment, but he blinks as if refocusing, and raises his chin. "Nines and Reed came with the intention of catching their perps before they got another set of victims. Reed's a little messed up, and they took Nines."

Hank steps up, hands clasped behind his back as he takes over. "We're gonna go in there, we're gonna check the main floor, then the second level - that's where they were all hanging out when Reed and Nines located them."

"Th-then the the the th-the basement," Gavin adds, offering a sharp glare to the others when they look to him curiously.

"Chen, stick close to Reed. They've got a disruptor field somewhere in there, and it's possible his body will lock up if he gets too close." Tina frowns at Hank, looking like she's ready to ask questions, but he silences her with a shake of his head. "You'll know if it happens." Hank drops a hand to Connor's shoulder, waits until the Lieutenant meets his gaze, then nods. "Let's go get our boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now to decide how much time to skip......... aka how much/little 'linkage' do I want to struggle through before the next bit I've got already written up...


	5. Chapter 5

**|22:55:57|**

Connor leads the march down the street.

"No one takes three steps out of sight of someone else," Hank says, glancing around him to meet everyone's gaze.

Connor replies with a quick "Got it," that they've all heard before. Chris and Tina nod, clearly expecting the instruction.

Hank faces front again, throwing words out without turning. "That means you Reed."

"Got it," Gavin mutters.


	6. Chapter 6

  **|22:56:17|**

After that they're silent but for their feet against the road, matching the area - the only sounds are birds, the odd squirrel, creaks of the houses. Most of the homes here are still abandoned, people who left Detroit in the evacuation following the Android Revolution and who clearly chose not to come back.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**|22:56:41|**

A sideways glance from Connor to Hank has them adjusting their positions, the android moving to take the lead without a word as they reach the end of the street and the House.

Gavin follows, stepping up onto the curb then walking down the pathway. There are no lights visibly on, just like earlier. The only thing different, really, is a chair lying haphazard on the walkway, and he considers kicking it aside until he thinks about the noise it would make. And then he stops midstep because fuck, there's red within his vision bright against the grey of everything else but it's not the red of an error message or of an order. No that- that red is blood, is human blood, _f u c k-_

He feels frozen, like the disruptor field is fucking with his systems again as he stares at the dark red drops on the stone, brightened as one of his investigative processes recognizes it as fucking _evidence-_

No, he hasn't locked up, he's just imagining that. He forces his legs to move on, move past the blood that he'd started to fixate on when _he knows_ Nines was injured. He already knew that. Fuck, but it still- He sucks a breath in through his teeth, focusing on the rest of the stone walkway and Hank, who's standing on the short porch with Connor close behind him.

The older android glances back over the group, checking they're ready, then he pushes the door open, gun raised and ready a second later - and fuck, how did Gavin even forget, he hasn't raised his gun once on this outing, that mighta helped earlier, when his partner was shooting their assailants and fucking getting injured protecting him-

Gavin pulls his gun from its holster, enters the house after Connor.

 _'Go right,'_ Hank says, and he does, hearing Tina and Chris' footsteps as they follow him while Hank leads Connor left.

Between the two sets, they check every corner of the main level quickly, meeting up at the back of the house - near the side-by-side staircases up and down. Gavin notices three indents in the wall, chunks of old paint and plaster crumbled on the floor. Right. He sends Hank a quick memory-visual as a warning about throwing knife lady, offering his estimates of her proficiency in speed and aim. Hank blinks at him in acknowledgement, then meets Chris' gaze, tilting his head to the stairs up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a few points where Gavin starts panicking in this chapter, but other than that it's the RESCUE!!

**|22:57:18|**

Hank, with Connor and Chris accompanying him, head up to the second floor, leaving Tina and Gavin at the foot of the stairs. Tina shifts, moving backwards until she's barely leaning against the wall and holds a ready position there, flicking her gaze between the front door, the stairs, and the room just beside the stairs. Gavin stands in the middle of the hallway, staring up the stairs and running a preconstruction as he imagines Connor and Hank working their way through the blueprint of the second floor.

The preconstruction lasts for two point seven four seconds, and then Gavin shuffles his feet. Now they have to _wait._ He's never enjoyed waiting when he has nothing - not even his knife - to occupy himself with, it just feels so inefficient.

He waits nine point two one seconds, then steps closer to Tina, close enough to whisper and be certain she hears. "I'll be back."

With that, Gavin wanders through the doorway just beyond the two sets of stairs, checking the section Hank and his duckling had cleared. He's beyond sick of just standing in the hall, glaring up the stairs as if they'll produce his partner if he just waits long enough. It makes him feel useless. Tina's got a clear view up and down stairs as well as to the front door - the only door in or out of the house - so she'll see if someone enters. There's no reason for him to watch as well, he's better off looking for ID or evidence his perps may have left lying around for an investigative android to find.

So he wanders, looks at the half-dead plants arranged along the exterior wall with little interest even as he automatically identifies them - several seasonal cacti, a dracaena, a few aloe variations, a sprawling pothos, some echeverias and sedums- Wait, he is kind of interested in those last ones. Nines has an echeveria pulvinata on his desk, and Gavin had taken a few minutes (or hours) to do some research on the little plants commonly called 'succulents.' They're fascinating things. He leans down, inspecting the sedums on the shelf. Some of them have dropped leaves, and he shrugs before scooping up half a dozen leaves, depositing them into a pocket for propagation at some later time. Perhaps after this is all done, they'll be a decent get well gift or something.

He prowls on, sweeping his gaze over the laundry machines, the desk that holds the dusty outline of a computer keyboard, the large dining room table - that has piles of books and papers strewn across it. Ooh, something there ought to be useful. He strides over, spreads the papers out more to glance over each. A lot of them are… hand-drawn maps. Gavin frowns, tilts his head. They appear to be residential, and numbers are scrawled in awful handwriting over boxes representing houses.

A blinking green light catches his attention. It's coming from a device the size of a microwave boasting a small screen and row of buttons beside the light. He observes it for a moment, sees a second light flash on a slower pace than the first. He… isn't quite sure what the device is. A query provides him with a wide variety of results, nothing conclusive. He steps closer, sees a small paper with printing on it -

_TO TURN FIELD ON: PRESS…_

"Reed?" Tina calls, but he ignores her, knowing she'll move if she really wants a reply now. But this, _this_ is the fucking disruptor field emitter. He stops actively reading the note, strides forward- And nearly stumbles as his knee locks up mid-step. Fucking… No. _No_ , he forces himself to move, focuses on manually directing his joints to bend and flex to keep going- He reaches out, reaches for the row of buttons, because he knows how to turn the damned thing off, _come on, just a little further-_

Fuck. He's completely frozen up now, and a string of red starts to scroll along the bottom of his HUD. Yeah, he fucking knows his system is getting messed up. He _knows,_ okay, and why can't he dismiss the note that he can't seem to even read? "F-f-f-f-" he says, and that's about all he can do. His vision is pixelated, clarifying a bit for an instant but worsening just as quickly.

Where the hell is Tina? He'd heard her footsteps, she was coming to check on him when he didn't answer immediately. She should be just a few steps behind him by now, right? Or maybe she was on the other side of the room- Or, wait, hadn't it been Chris who had been instructed to stay close to him? Connor likes Chris better, therefore so does Hank.

Fuck. His recall is clearly glitching too - because now he can't say which officer had been sticking to his side.

"Whoa, what the hell," comes a voice, and the body it's attached to enters his visual range shortly after. It's- huh, Gavin had presumed that, when the officer assigned to his side came into view, he would be able to identify them and resolve the confusion his memory recall error had caused. _Wrong._

"I-I-I n-n-nnnnnn-neeeeeeeeee-" He hears a click in his throat, which he's certain is not good. He flicks his gaze from the person to the device, hoping they'll figure out what he means without a complete word, because it doesn't seem he'll be able to form one. It's impressive that the disruptor field hasn't more significantly affected his thinking processes. He wonders how, exactly, it is interacting with his own system, whether it's getting into his programming or just instigating malfunctions- Distracted. Maybe those processes have been affected more than he realizes. He repeats the eye movement, this time pairing it with sound. "D-d-dis-dis-dissssss-r-r-rrrrrr-"

"Stop that, you're gonna break yourself. Wait- shit, is this the, uh, the disruptor field thingy?" He struggles to move, trying to make a gesture that could be interpreted as confirmation. He rocks, just a little, probably unnoticeable to a human.

"Y-y-y-y-y-y-yyyyyyyy-" There's a new error flashing, taking up most of his visual range. He can't focus on it. It's too big, too red, too fucking loud. He's probably overheating again though, because he can feel the desperate gasps for air his body is trying to make, mouth and throat moving to breathe in while his circulation system falls behind. And this time, he's calm enough to recognize the air intake's most likely function as an attempt to moderate his internal temperatures.

A moment later - thirty-two point eight zero seconds later actually, though he has to wonder at the accuracy of his internal clock because it feels like much less - he is abruptly falling forwards.

"Shit," Tina sputters, grabbing his arm and managing to keep him from face planting. The counter edge he's got one hand on helps a bit too, but he still stumbles to his knees.

"F-f-f-fuck," Gavin spits, taking an instant to acknowledge the error message. Yeah, overheating. He shifts, places one hand flat on the floor while Tina holds his other arm yet. He focuses on controlling his air intake, thinking about the pathways it circulates through and how it regulates his internal temperatures, and that focus helps him relax a little more. "F-f-fuck, goddamn disss-ruptor f-f-f-f-ffield, if I ever see anoth-th-th-ther one Imma f-f-f-fuck someth-th-thing up."

Tina breathes a sigh of relief, and Gavin lifts his head to look at her. She seems shaken, but has managed to keep her guard up, still glancing around to ensure no one sneaks up on them while Gavin is still sort of out of commission. There's going to be so many goddamn repairs to do once they've gotten out of this.

He pings Hank, relieved when the older android accepts immediately. _'Dis-ruptor f-f-f-field offf.'_

 _'We're in the basement,'_ Hank replies, sounding distracted. _'Guard the emitter, send Chen down.'_

Gavin cuts the communication and gnashes his teeth together. If they're in the basement, that means Nines wasn't upstairs. That means that they don't have his partner secured and safe yet. That means that Gavin should be fucking leaping down the stairs to fuck up the humans who figured they could steal his partner and not have to face his wrath. But he's disobeyed so many orders already tonight; he isn't sure he's got the strength to break through the hold of one more. "Join th-them in the the the the basement," he grits out, looking at Tina as he pushes off the floor to return to a standing position. "Give th-th-these perps hell f-for me." The first statement was for Hank, simply relaying the directions he had received. The second is for Gavin - Tina isn't the object of his wrath, but he does know that she'll happily carry it for him and release it upon those deserving.

She grins - a fierce thing, teeth bared and eyes dark - and nods, turning in the direction he knows the stairs down are.

And now he waits. He feels off balance again, but his joints feel smooth like they should be. His vision has returned to greyscale, which is manageable without that pixelated shit going on too. He's tempted to delve in to his programming to start fixing impairments, but that's not an ideal plan when he's standing alone beside a device that has the ability to reduce him to a nearly useless body. So he simply stands guard, limbs primed for any necessary movement while he shifts some more of his processing power to his perception of the surrounding area.

It is logical that he should be the one to remain and guard the emitter - he will move more efficiently, with a faster reaction time, than the humans could hope to achieve. But he- he wants to be down in the basement, locating his partner and protecting _him_ , not a fucking electrical device that will never have sentience.

Huh. He… _wants_ to be the one to rescue Nines.

It's… been a while since he's realized something that he… actually wants. Not the shit he tells Nines or anyone else who asks what he wants - like one goddamn minute to himself, or Nines off his back, or a cigarette they all know very well he won't ever touch. That's not really stuff he wants, it's just the joking, antagonistic answer they've come to expect and that holds up the image he's been building of Gavin Reed since he came to the DPD.

But wanting… this… It's a feeling he hadn't anticipated. It's a rush that makes him stand straighter, scan the hallway again with a sharp-eyed gaze, makes him almost wish for one of their perps try to get past him so that he can give em hell. It makes him freeze for just a millisecond when Hank pings him.

_'Got RK, heading up now.'_

He doesn't bother with an acknowledgement. Hank's probably occupied with carrying half of his partner's weight, considering an android won't have any issues with Nines' tall frame - Gavin knows, because he's lifted Nines himself once or five times to prove he won't hesitate to move the man when he's refusing to listen.

Footsteps pound on the stairs, and Gavin half raises his gun before he is able to recognize Tina leading the hustle back up to the main floor. She flashes him a look, unfamiliar and too quick for him to identify the emotion behind the expression. "They're all out Reed, and not a single one's goin anywhere within the twenty minutes it'll take us to run to the hospital and back," Tina announces, grabbing his arm. Gavin lets himself be pulled down the hall, through the door, out to the porch, down on to the stone walkway. Then she releases him, and literally sprints away down the street.

He stares after her for a moment, confused, then his head swings back towards Chris at the sound of the officer asking for Connor's car keys while the two hurry out on to the porch. Chris turns and grabs the door, holding it open. Connor steps to the side and shoves his hands into his pockets, face pale with a few spatters of contrasting blood along his jawline as he fishes for his keys. They've left Gavin a clear view of the doorway: and Hank, as the older android steps through the door, Nines cradled in his arms.

His partner is pale, paler than Connor, his jacket apparently discarded somewhere within the House. The grey turtleneck is ripped at one shoulder, the skin under the rip smeared with red, and the sleeves are shoved up to reveal chafed wrists. Nines' head is tucked against Hank's chest, but the way it lolls makes it clear the man is unconscious.

**> GUNSHOT WOUND ON LEFT SHOULDER**

**> CUT ON LEFT OUTER THIGH**

**> CONTUSION ON BACK OF HEAD >> Concussion likely**

Gavin recalls the glitchy assessment from earlier, now unhindered by any weird symbols or visual static. There's more - there would be more, except he forcefully shuts down the assessment program before it can start listing its findings.

Nines is safe.

Gavin doesn't need- doesn't _want_ to know what else has happened to his partner in the forty-nine minutes and twenty-three seconds they've been separated. _He doesn't fucking want to know._ Nines _is safe,_ and that's _all he fucking needs_ right now. Nines is safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> put this and the previous 3 chapters out all together, the ~full scene~ cut up a bit to give it a different feel.  
> I kinda think that it makes it feel a little distant, maybe a little dissociated, which might be how Gavin is feeling now that he's done waiting for help to arrive and then done waiting for the rescue to get underway.
> 
> JUST WANTED TO CLARIFY in case any of you are wondering... So Gavin's been feeling feelings, right? quite a bit actually, even if he ignores them or pretends they don't affect him. SO HE'S DEVIANT, RIGHT? but he's breaking through orders (or not managing to) whaaaattt?  
> BASICALLY CyberLife was like hmm let's make damn sure this one doesn't ever go deviant, we think we know what it is that's making/allowing them to go deviant, lets fix that! except they didn't have it totally figured out and basically just put a ton of safeguards and rerouted stuff to try and get around the rA9 code chunk. SO yes he's deviant in the sense of Feeling Things but also not in the sense of sometimes still being bound by (most often direct, specified) orders.
> 
> I probably won't really go into further detail as to Nines' injuries? mostly because I'd rather not accidnetally squick myself out doing injury research, which happens randomly sometimes. I'll probably figure a few bits out to give me a lil more depth at the hospital and to provide part of a conversation with a doc/nurse/android medical aide, but that'll be it I think.  
> Likely will also not cover any recovery time, as I think this fic is more about/for Gavin, to show a little growing up and some realizations/shifting priorities that he goes through as a result of their botched raid.
> 
> probably mainly 3ish chapters to go, based on the general scenes I wanna write up, though who knows if they'll end up cut up into pieces other than what I currently foresee


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew, got another one up for y'all...school is a thing... school should probably be more/a higher priority thing, but ehhhhhh.
> 
> anyways, yeah, another chapter... I feel like I'm struggling through a bit here, should probs sit down and think a lil more about character motivations/headspaces BEFORE setting about writing because otherwise it starts going all over a bit and then I need to reign it in...

Tina brings the cruiser to the end of the street with a skidding turn and brake that has Connor wincing. She throws the door open and jumps out, reaching for the back door. Hank's there immediately, like they'd discussed this plan - Gavin checks his audio memory, and there's no record of such a talk occurring within his hearing range - and he leans forward into the backseat, laying Nines out, taking a moment to arrange long limbs.

"Lieutenant," the android says, sharp but somehow still sounding gentle. Connor jerks into motion, stepping off the curb, picking up speed until he reaches the cruiser's back door, Hank having already climbed into the front.

"Chris," Connor says as he turns around to glare, probably meant in warning but seeming weak. The officer gives him a patient nod, meeting his gaze reassuringly.

"Don't stress Anderson, I'm just driving your baby seven miles, nothing's gonna happen." Connor huffs a sigh, but averts his eyes, climbing into the backseat of the cruiser with Nines without another word. Tina shuts the door, and Hank takes off, the cruiser accelerating 2.31 mph too fast for it to be fully on auto-drive.

Chris jogs down the street and opens the classic Buick's driver door, folding his frame down into the car. The engine putters to life seconds later, and then he's pulling out from the curb. He uses the nearest driveway to turn around and follows his own cruiser's path towards the hospital.

"Gavin?"

His head swings up as he turns quickly to face Tina. She's watching him from where she's standing in the street, arms loose at her sides. She half turns, gestures for him to follow.

Sure. Yeah, he can… He can do that. He takes a breath in, starts to walk while focusing on the path the air particles take as they circulate through his system, cooling his body and keeping it at optimal operating temperatures. Tina moves before he reaches her, striding towards Nines' car with regular glances over her shoulder to ensure he's still following her. Of course he is. He might be… He might _seem_ distant, but keeping up with the officer he's currently assigned to is an easy protocol to pull up and activate.

And it's good that it is, because he does feel distant. He feels tired, a clear indication that he needs to induce stasis for significantly more than two minutes and forty-six seconds, just… not yet.

They reach Nines' car, and Tina presses a button to unlock the doors, then hops in. Gavin thinks, as he steps in as well, that she must have grabbed the keyfob before Hank drove off with Nines, not that it matters much. He could have unlocked the car himself and set it to drive. That actually may have been preferable - if he needed to interface with the car, he would have had something to focus on, something to occupy his mind with. Because once again, he's left with the task of waiting.

He calculates the most likely route to the hospital **|7.83 miles|14:27:35 estimated to arrival|** and finds himself hoping Tina chooses to drive, instead of using the full auto-drive function, if only because he expects she would drive faster than the posted speed limits.

She seems to share the feeling, hands gripping the steering wheel and gear shift. She pulls out of the parking lane, executes a u-turn in the middle of the road, and drives to the end of the street, rolling through the stop sign. Gavin takes note of her initial speed and disregard of the rules, and recalculates to reflect those characteristics. **|12:46:22|**

He closes his eyes, begins a review of the evening- Oh, Hank has sent him a compressed account of his part in the rescue mission. Gavin plays it, speeds it up a little more than necessary, though he slows it to his regular processing speed as Hank starts making his way down the stairs to the basement. He'll have to return to the first part of the account, certainly, to check it over for anything he will need to add to his report, but for now he just wants to know, wants to see Nines.

But does he really?

It will be the work of a few milliseconds to analyze his partner's injuries - in fact, Hank had probably done it in real time - and while he wants to know, he also feels like he doesn't want to see whatever hell Nines had gone through after ordering Gavin to abandon him.

He checks his estimate of their arrival time.  **|12:29:57|**

17 seconds have passed. It feels like it should be more, twice that at least. He's viewed a full minute and 26 seconds of Hank's footage, and he hadn't sped it up that much, had he? Well. Maybe he had.

But he's decided, if he's got twelve minutes to wait until they reach the hospital, he doesn't need to see his partner injured in the basement or cradled in Hank's arms.

He stares out the window instead, hands settled flat on his thighs, feet flat on the floor. It's a very proper seated position, the one CyberLife had programmed in to him, it's one of the first things he finds if he looks at his own algorithms and coding, that tall, straight-backed posture. He does look taller when he sits like this, and that's probably the only reason why he hasn't discarded the automatic tendency. He isn't particularly short by human standards, but when he's standing with Hank and the Andersons, he looks it. Though it doesn't help that Nines holds his head high. That, coupled with the man's near-perfect posture, appears to lend him additional height that he does not fucking need.

**|11:53:55|**

Gavin checks his internal clock against the one in the car's dashboard, just to be sure. There's a difference of 1.301 seconds - minimal, not so much to be concerned about, but it doesn't explain why time seems to be moving so fucking slowly. No, he knows why it feels like time is passing slowly. It's because his processing power and speed are too damn much to have nothing to do, nothing to focus on.

He wishes he had something to calibrate with - his knife would be ideal of course, but Hank's lighter has been shoved into his hands on occasion, and it's a fair substitute, though he doesn't have as many tricks programmed in that he can do with the lighter. He runs his fingers up the seatbelt instead, cataloguing the material and the way it feels on his skin, but time still seems to be moving too slowly. Hank says that Connor likes the lighter tricks, says that Gavin's knife makes Connor uncomfortable, though he hasn't shared a reason with Gavin-

Connor. Connor fiddles with a quarter. Hank carries a few coins with him, he's pretty sure Nines does too.

Gavin's hand falls from the seatbelt while his gaze drops to the console between the seats, to the cupholders. There's no shine of metal immediately visible.

"Con cleaned him out a few days ago," Tina says abruptly, apparently having noticed enough to guess at his intentions. She hits a button - switching the car to full auto-drive - and leans across the middle, popping open the glovebox. "Here. He's usually got a deck or three of cards tucked around the car though." She leans back, gaze turning to the road but he gets the feeling she's still sort of watching as he reaches forwards, removes a small clear case, then closes the glovebox.

He opens the case and pulls the cards out. A brief search returns hundreds of flourishes and an accompanying pop-up, offering the ability to program up to two dozen in only 3.24 seconds. Gavin is surprised to realize that he'd rather learn them naturally, not simply code the movements, so he chooses a compromise. He picks one list, randomizes it and programs the first six. It's done in less than a second, but he ignores the programmed flourishes and starts trying one the list has titled 'Pandora'.

It occupies him for several minutes, and when he glances up to gauge their position relative to the hospital, he sees that it is only three blocks away. He looks to Tina. He should probably thank her for the suggestion, right? It helped time feel like it was moving properly, and it helped settle the agitation he was feeling.

But she looks tense, fingers gripping the steering wheel far tighter that necessary considering the car is still on auto-drive.

Fuck, of course she would be. Nines keeps multiple decks of cards in his car - cardistry is a skill the detective likely has and presumably employs on occasion. And here's Gavin, flipping the cards around and learning flourishes when Nines is hurt _(because of him, a sudden thought suggests)_ , in the emergency room by now, probably going into surgery. Gavin has been assuming his partner will be fine, because he always is, but this time he doesn't know the extent of the human's injuries. He has insufficient information to calculate expected chance of survival.

Fuck. Now he really wants his knife.

"He'll be fine," Tina announces, passing a soft look over Gavin. "Connor was freaked out, but Hank didn't seem too worried. He would've whipped out his high-tech first aid skills if RK was really bad."

Gavin frowns. Just because Hank didn't _seem_ worried does not mean that he isn't, that they all shouldn't be. And Gavin didn't know the older android has first aid skills - that was something CyberLife apparently did not deem valuable enough to his designed purpose to include within his own programming.

Tina takes control of the car back, leaving him to think in silence for a moment as she parks. Then the engine is off, deepening the quiet until she opens the driver door and steps out. "Come on Reed." He follows the implied instructions, getting out of Nines' car. Tina voices a quick, "Hey, catch!" and tosses something over the roof of the car - a key fob, with a copper tag, a string of numbers stamped on both flat sides of it. Gavin files both number series away for later investigation as he strides around the car to catch up with Tina.

The woman moves fast, when she wants to, and right now seems to be a time that she wants to. She leads him across the parking lot at a steady clip, and Gavin notices the Lieutenant's car as they hurry past it. He pings Hank, lets him know they've arrived, and cuts the communication. There'll be plenty of time for talk while they _wait._

Hank returns the comm, simply sending his location and noting that Chris is outside the building. Gavin spots the cruiser immediately, and Chris with it, the young officer sitting in the driver's seat and leaning half out the window despite the chilling wind. Tina stalks up to the vehicle, raps her knuckles against the door. Her partner blinks slowly, clearly used to the method of announcing her presence.

"He's in surgery," Chris says as Gavin comes to stand by the window, Tina hurrying around the cruiser and climbing in. "Couple hours, probably, but that's all they said before whisking him away." Chris chews on his bottom lip for a moment, his eyes running up and down Gavin and resting on the deck of cards in his hand that he's suddenly hyper-aware of. "Hank probably knows more, there's a medical aide android in there with him." Gavin nods, steps back as a clear suggestion. He hasn't forgotten that they'd left fifteen people in the House, supposedly trussed up and or unconscious. Tina was confident they wouldn't be going anywhere, but Gavin wants them dealt with.

"The eight patroller androids that chose to stay on all have police cruiser privileges now," he says. "Five are on shift this week, I'll alert them that you need assistance in transporting my perps down to the station." Chris nods back, and shifts the cruiser into drive. Gavin watches as they roll through the parking lot, sirens and lights flipped on the moment the cruiser turns on to the street.

With that taken care of, he should probably head inside.

He stays for just a second more, draws in a deliberate breath, tasting the air and deleting the automatic analysis. It feels cold on his tongue, in his throat. It is cold out here; 37.7 degrees, below freezing. A message pops up, informing him how long he can be out in this temperature before it begins to affect his biocomponents - 41 hours, which means that even if he were to stay out all night, he would see no adverse effects.

He takes in another breath and sighs. The exhale isn't as warm as from a human, but there is enough of a temperature difference that he sees a small cloud drifting away from him. He turns, locates the doors nearest the ER, and strides forwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor has his coin(s); and based on some varying fanart, Hank has a lighter, and I've seen some where RK900 has like a butterfly knife, others where he has a card/deck of cards  
> so I gave Nines the cards, and Gav the knife because seriously that boy would absolutely have a knife


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a look at how the Revolution and ensuing Personhood for androids are changing a few things in the healthcare world...

Hank does not, in fact, know more. Gavin had guessed as much as soon as he found the pair - Connor standing, taking a few steps as if to pace then glancing back at Hank, who is seated and shakes his head.

"Do we know anyth-th-thing?" he says anyways, asking half to announce his presence.

"Fuck all," Connor answers, his face twisting in a frown.

"Hey," Hank says sharply. Connor scrunches his nose at the android, shoves a hand into his pocket. The quarter comes out, rolls along the Lieutenant's knuckles as he walks away down the hall. "Damn," Hank mutters, wiping a hand down his face, "I can't believe I keep doing that."

"What?"

"Reprimanding his vulgar language."

Gavin chokes a laugh out. And then it's quiet; Connor is off down the hallway, Hank is gazing into middle distance while blinking occasionally, Gavin is standing with a clear box of playing cards held loosely in his hand. After brief consideration, he turns, sits beside Hank, his back straight for just a moment before he forces himself into a slouch. "Nines is worse," comes out of his mouth, unprompted. "Every other sentence he's swearing at something."

Hank's hand falls on his shoulder, heavy and warm, like he's adjusted his external temperature layout. "Hate to break it to you son, but that's just around you."

He doesn't doubt that that's true. Antagonism seems to feature strongly in the personality he's creating for himself, and the detective seems to bring it out in a way that typically has between 60 and 85 percent chance of ending with them each cursing and yelling. It's- He doesn't think that's a problem, really, but he thinks that if he hadn't been quite so pushy before their botched raid, maybe he wouldn't be sitting in a plastic waiting chair, uncertain of his partner's status. He knows that if he were a little more cooperative, from the start, they would be at least 12% more efficient in completing the cases assigned to them. More, probably, but he shies away from the idea of combing through his memory to calculate more accurately.

Gavin makes a note to be more cooperative. Nines is his partner, and senior officer, technically, so he really should give way regularly. It's tough, when Gavin snipes some comment and the man sasses back just as good. Their interactions are… fun, he believes is an accurate word, until they ultimately descend into verbal or physical fighting. He just… isn't sure how to keep the sniping and sassing without always ending up with the fighting too.

His fingers are tapping against his leg. He opens the card case, starts to pull the deck out, but pauses. Connor is not within his immediate vicinity, but he would likely respond to the cardistry in a similar way as Tina did, or worse. Gavin closes the case. He slips it into a pocket and stands instead. "Tell me if- ifff you receive any inf-f-formation," he requests, and Hank nods, the older android watching curiously as Gavin walks into the perpendicular hallway. He leans back, pressing his shoulders against the wall.

He begins to review the notes they had worked up prior to this evening and begins to supplement with the scraps of information he had gained.

**|23:20:16|**

**|23:20:17|**

**…**

**|23:25:01|**

Someone's touching him, grasping his forearm. He reacts automatically, a basic defensive protocol activating- Twist arm up and out to dislodge assailant's grip- Step back to create space, raise arms to fend off another attack-

"NK900, stand down!" Hank bellows, the order warring with the defensive protocol for just a moment, red lines of code flashing across his vision before the order wins out.

He blinks, switching back to actively observing his surroundings - when had he switched into a retrospective review mode, anyway? - and sees the medical aide standing in front of him, looking startled with their hands held up. Non-threatening. "Sorry," he says, stepping back again- stepping back into Hank, the older android's body broad and large behind him, and there's a threat analysis that blips up into his HUD but he blinks quickly to dismiss it, because regular blinking is soothing to humans, mostly in that not blinking has a tendency to make them nervous. _'Sorry,'_ he says again, aware after an instant that the repeat went nowhere, because the aide who had startled him is human.

"Oh no, I apologize, I hadn't meant to surprise you." _Surprise is a strong word,_ he wants to say, but Hank's hand on his shoulder keeps him quiet.

"Had you said android unit?" Hank asks, sounding… curious, primarily.

The aide nods, smiling. "Oh yes. It opened a few weeks ago, the state has strongly recommended the new unit for all general hospitals. Would you…" Their gaze flickers between Hank's face and Gavin's, and he lifts a hand to the side of his nose, feeling only dried Thirium on top of his synthetic skin. "Would you like to come see, possibly have that looked at?"

Hank is in favour. Gavin can feel it, almost, and though he's probably just imagining the feeling, he's certain that Hank thinks they should indeed go.

But- But they can't, _he_ can't. He needs to stay here, in case… when Nines comes out of surgery, he needs to be here. "Nines," Gavin murmurs, the only opposition he has to offer, but he feels it is important enough to be the only one.

Hank stares past the human aide for a moment, and blinks twice rapidly as he accesses the status. "Expect several hours more in surgery. I've messaged the Lieutenant, he knows where we're going." With his concern addressed, Hank's large hand on his shoulder gently prompts him forwards. "Please lead the way Peter."

Gavin expects that Hank knows the way - he should have downloaded the hospitals schematics the moment he stepped inside, if not before, just as Gavin had done. So they don't need a human guide. But the aide seems happy to assist, chatting softly with Hank while Gavin dutifully follows. There is a note, somewhere in his 'Understanding Humans' database, that people feel better when they have something to do, particularly if it is in assistance to another person. He has since amended that, because he has observed in some humans the apparent desire to 'do nothing' as a way of passing the time, and that some would prefer doing nothing over helping someone else if there is no gain for themselves.

Humans are interesting, and complex, and… emotionally driven in ways that he's still working to understand. Like the way the aide brings them, with a grin, to a newly painted doorframe - done within the past month, and a bright blue that is likely meant to emulate the colour of traditional android markers. "Here you are! You should be all fixed up in no time, they know what they're doing in there," Peter says, gesturing for them to enter before striding away. That was an attempt at reassurance, in his words and presumably his tone.

Hank presses the heel of his hand against Gavin's shoulder, urging him to move forwards. He does without waiting for further encouragement, stepping through the blue doorway and into a waiting room that looks like all the others he's seen. The primary difference is that there are several copies of CyberLife catalogues strewn among the typical gossip, home, garden, and fitness publications. Interesting. He wonders what CyberLife is trying to sell to them now - an unprompted query brings up the e-catalogue, and he's vaguely surprised by the listings. Anything from physical mods to sense receptors, to internal 'organs' like a containment and processing unit for food, and on and on.

 _'Reed,'_ Hank says, pulling him out of the catalogue. He hadn't realized how distracted he'd become by it, but there is now someone standing in front of them wearing a lab jacket, with a wide blue stripe across the chest.

 _"I'm not going into stasis,"_ Gavin mutters, aloud as well as silently to Hank.

The person in front of them - who Gavin is going to assume is a technician - frowns, opening her mouth, but Hank shakes his head with a stern look. "If you insist," the technician says. "That may limit the repairs we can do today."

"I don't care." The words are coming quickly out of his mouth, and a note pops up **[Anxiety]** as if that explains away the agitation he's feeling at the thought of stasis when they don't know exactly how Nines is, when neither the surgeon nor the aide assisting the surgery is giving them even a preliminary prognosis, when he doesn't know if his partner is okay. Well, maybe it does explain away the agitation… He files the conclusion as something to investigate at a later time - after seeing Nines, after going into stasis, _later_.

"Can you tell me what happened?" The technician begins leading them out of the waiting room, down a short hallway and to a doorway. She gestures for Gavin to enter.

"Crazy knif-f-f-fe th-throwing lady," he answers. A concerned look slides on to her face as he steps into the room, sits in the chair that's set in the middle of the room.

She walks to the row of cabinets lining one wall, opens a door. "Do you need to log a report on her? We have some tablets on hand for situations like this, when humans think they can…"

Hank is shaking his head. Gavin's reaction is less graceful; he's chuckling, arguably manically. "It's already being taken care of, Doctor Kashy," Hank says, before turning a faint glare on Gavin. _'Try to cooperate?'_ Cooperate. Gavin's laughter fades, but not before something in his throat clicks.

"And… what about your vocal module?" She's making admirable effort to ignore his behaviour while still gathering information. It's impressive almost - Nines is 38% more effective when he employs the same efforts.

"Diss-ruptor f-f-field, f-f-fucked up a few th-th-things," he says, seeing the technician's frown reappear. That information probably isn't too sensitive to their investigation- Wait. "Hank!" Gavin twists around on the chair, reaching for the older android's sleeve. "Hank, f-f-f-f-fuck, th-that's how th-th-they kept getting into-" Hank flicks his gaze to the technician, and Gavin steamrolls past the gentle rebuke but does switch from speaking aloud. _'Th-th-that's how th-they f-f-fucking got in to th-th-th-the the houses, how th-th-th-they got th-th-their victims, th-the the f-f-f-f-fucking dis-rruptor f-f-field!'_

 _'Interesting theory. It does seem plausible, though you'll need to check the various alarm system types to confirm.'_ Hank seems almost… proud of him. The android sets a hand in Gavin's hair, ruffles the slicked style then quickly steps backwards, out of reach as the technician waits for his attention.

Gavin scrunches his nose at Hank, but gives the technician his entire concentration. The sooner they get started here, the sooner he can get back to waiting for Nines.

He may yet ask Hank for a coin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO should be 2 (probably 3 to account for some POV switching) chapters to cover off what I want to here...  
> may end up writing a bit of a sequel to this that is still before 'Breaking Routine' to work through some of Gav's revelations????? who knows


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy thanksgiving to all my fellow canadian babes!! just figured i'd say thanks to all of you here, everyone who reads and bookmarks/kudos'es and comments, you're beautiful and i seriously want to curl into a ball and squeak happily whenever i look at the stats for this fic/series. it's really validating and motivating, so yeah. thanks.
> 
> FT anesthesia???sort of? and vague affection that Gav isn't quite sure what to do with, but he knows he doesn't want to upset his human, so he struggles thru the best he can

**|02:14:23|**

**|02:14:24|**

**|02:14:25|**

**…**

**< SYSTEM TEMPERATURE CHECK: operating within optimal internal temperature range>**

**< THIRIUM 310 LEVELS: 98.401%>**

**> OPTIC OUTPUT: restored to standard levels**

**> REBOOTING VOCAL MODULE**

**> REBOOTING OPTIC SYSTEM**

**> REBOOTING PRIMARY MOTOR FUNCTION PATHWAYS**

**> REBOOTING SECONDARY MOTOR FUNCTION PATHWAYS**

**…**

**> VOCAL MODULE: online**

**> OPTIC SYSTEM: online**

**...**

**> PRIMARY MOTOR FUNCTION PATHWAYS: online**

**...**

**> SECONDARY MOTOR FUNCTION PATHWAYS: online**

**< ERROR: SECONDARY MOTOR FUNCTION PATHWAY #21A CORRUPTED>**

**...**

**< ERROR: SECONDARY MOTOR FUNCTION PATHWAY #23B CORRUPTED>**

**< ERROR: SECONDARY MOTOR FUNCTION PATHWAY..**

Gavin dismisses the corrupted pathway error messages, and the next two warnings that pop up without even looking at them. "What?" he croaks, figuring there's a reason the technician hasn't fixed everything up.

Hank is staring at him while the technician sighs from the edge of the room. "RK is out of surgery."

Gavin is out of the chair in an instant, grabbing Hank's arm. "What the fuck, let's go, how long's Nines been free?"

"Three-point-five-seven seconds," comes the answer. "He is currently being assigned a room. The Lieutenant will be informed momentarily."

"Let's fucking go then!" Gavin releases Hank's jacket, strides out of the room and into the hall, recalling the hospital map while Hank thanks the technician. He doesn't have time to wait for fucking pleasantries - well he does, he knows that most of the time people don't wake up after emergency surgeries within five minutes of coming out of the OR. He doesn't _want_ to wait. He's done enough damn waiting tonight. This morning.

Whatever. He stalks through the halls, accesses Nines' record, notes the room number and unit, and adjusts his course accordingly.

Gavin is standing outside of the room shortly thereafter, staring blankly at the closed door. Hank catches up a few seconds later - _curse long legs_ \- and touches his shoulder.

"Connor's in there right now, talking with a medical aide android," Hank says quietly. Gavin nods, certain that an acknowledgement is expected. "He'll have to officially permit non-family in." The words hang in the air for a moment. _'Permit non-family'…_ Right, that makes sense. That lines up with the hospital policy that he pulls up, just to check. It's a matter of legality, of medical power of attorney, because Nines is currently unconscious and a vulnerable person.

Gavin turns and scans the hallway. He locates a lounge area approximately six-point-one yards away. Right. If he has to wait - _again_ \- then he might as well relax. And maybe run a diagnostic to identify what exactly had been repaired in the Android Unit.

"I have your chart, so to speak," Hank says, following him to the lounge area. He offers his hand, white casing already revealed. Gavin grasps his arm and accepts the file transfer.

He breaks the connection, hoping that nothing has transferred the other way as he busies himself with sitting in a chair. He glances up, sees Hank settling into a seat of his own. _'Thanks,'_ he says, sending only the one word. Hank nods then slides down in his chair, dropping his head against the back to stare at the ceiling. Gavin's predecessor is clearly giving him space.

And he'll take it, because he feels agitation working its way down to his hands. He taps out a beat on his legs, scrolling through the external diagnostic and description of repairs started and completed shared from the Android Unit via Hank. So there was more than simple pleasantries and politeness going on while he nearly ran out of there.

He shakes his head, using the physical motion to refocus.

There are only a few motor function command paths that are still corrupted. Not enough to hinder regular movement, and not so much that he won't be able to resolve them with a good, full stasis. Optics are fully restored. There's a note, probably intended as a warning, about system temperatures that he skims over. His vocal module is completely repaired as well, as far as the technician and her instruments can tell, though it does feel like there's something… just a little bit off. Again, something that might as well be left for stasis to deal with. A recommendation ends the list, detailing some code realignment that the technician didn't dare attempt and that Gavin thinks probably doesn't actually apply for his model.

Well, that's not quite all - there is a note attached regarding the facial abrasion. The technician had done what she could, but some of the wiring had already self-cauterized. There'll be a lasting mark then. Probably visible right now- yup, his synthetic skin is only 95.857% deployed instead of the usual 97.005%, which almost certainly means that it hasn't closed properly around the site of the abrasion.

Huh. His first scar.

He glances to Hank, who he knows was first sent out on mission in August 2038, six months ago. He isn't aware of the older android having any lasting marks- But he recalls that anytime the NK800 got too badly damaged, CyberLife had a vault of bodies waiting for memory upload.

He decides not to speak, decides not to mention the 'scar' and sits quietly instead, tapping his fingers against one leg as they wait.

It is only two minutes and thirty-eight-point-one seconds later when Lieutenant Anderson steps out into the hall, steel-toe boots a distinctive sound in the quiet ward.

Hank must have messaged him, because the man walks down the hallway straight to the lounge area, stopping in front of the first chair and collapsing down into it. Both androids are quiet as he drops his head, shoving his fingers up into his hair and disrupting the soft curls further. Gavin glances to Hank, gauging whether he should be concerned or not based on his reaction. The older android looks only minorly worried - a regular occurrence when he looks at the Lieutenant - and Gavin decides that there is no cause for immediate concern. So he waits, finding it easier now that something has happened and the promise of information on his partner is literally in front of him.

After a moment, Connor lifts his head, blowing out a breath. "He should be fine," he announces. "Unconscious of course, probably will be until 6 or 7 am." Gavin lets out a breath of his own that sounds like a relieved sigh, though the Lieutenant does not appear to notice. "You two are both logged as having full visiting privileges." Hank nods and sits up in his chair. Connor takes a breath, lets it out and takes another. "I need to clean up."

"I will drive you home," Hank says quickly, standing fluidly. "You should change your clothes, and attend to the dogs before returning to RK." Connor sighs, but nods, standing as well - apparently too tired to object.

Gavin is still for a few seconds as Connor leads the way to the hall, the _ting_ of a coin against a fingernail joining his footsteps. _'I'll sit with Nines, someone should keep an eye on him._ ' He transfers the sense of a sigh, as if he feels that the job falls to him to watch over his human because that reluctance is what is expected of him, even if Hank sends back a feeling of rolling his eyes before cutting the communication and striding after Connor.

He should go into Nines' room though. Even with the advances in medicine within just the last ten years, there's always the chance that something can unexpectedly change or go wrong. And without knowing what his partner has gone through, Gavin finds himself uneasy at the idea of leaving Nines alone for too long.

Hurrying across the hallway, Gavin sets his hand on the doorknob and twists, gently pushing the door open. His gaze falls on the opposite wall first - a small wheeled table placed in the corner, a large window taking up most of the wall with the blinds drawn to block out streetlights. Nines becomes the object of his focus shortly after, lying still and surprisingly peaceful looking on the bed. Gavin steps into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him before he moves further into the room.

His partner looks pale yet, though the soft wall light beside the bed makes him look much better than the street and moonlight did earlier. He's tucked in well, left arm bound lightly across his chest while the other is resting on top of the blanket - it's warm enough in the room that Gavin is unconcerned about that.

He takes one of the chairs that is set near the wall, carries it a few steps closer to the bed and sits down, continuing to take in his partner. Nines' dark hair is a mess, looking curly and half matted, but Gavin doesn't bother trying to fix it, even though he sort of wants to.

There's a third chair in the room, on the other side of the bed. A plastic bag is taking up the seating space, with a neatly written note on top. Gavin reads it from his position -

_RICHARD KEENAN ANDERSON: personal belongings_

The note lists eight items, presumably all contained within the bag.

His observation over, Gavin sits properly for eleven minutes and seven-point-four-two seconds, staring alternately at the wall and Nines. He really does feel like he should keep watch - that was how he'd said it, jokingly, to Hank, made it sound like some sort of chore - but nothing and no one will have any intention of hurting the detective here. He sighs, finally slouching in his chair.

"Fuck Nines," Gavin murmurs. He runs his hands over his hair, staring up at the ceiling instead of at his partner. He doesn't… He wants to look at Nines, wants to stare at the man for the next several hours or however long until he wakes up, until Gavin can see those icy blue eyes again and be reassured once and for all.

At the same time though, he doesn't.

He's coming to terms with the realization that he holds a fair chunk of the blame for the way their proposed raid had gone. He's coming to terms with the realization that, if he had listened to Nines, if he had compromised on the plan instead of forcing his own, the man would likely not have had to protect his useless ass for as long as he had. He's coming to terms with the realization that Nines is in a hospital bed because _Gavin_ had let his desire to be right and to lead something and to be in charge cloud his purportedly perfect decision making.

He can't take on the blame that belongs to their perps, who aimed to injure at the least and who were prepared to take his partner's life at worst - he can't and won't take that fault, because that belongs to those thirteen in the House who had attacked them and they will face judgement for their completed and intended crimes.

Gavin is clear on that, no question. But he knows very well that some of the blame must fall on his shoulders, and he isn't sure if he wants to look his partner in the eye with that knowledge.

"Fuckin- Nines, what've I done…"

He pulls the clear case from his pocket, opens it and pulls out the deck of cards. He locks away the learned and programmed flourishes, selects some new ones from the randomized list and starts twisting and flicking his fingers around the cards. There's no one around now to stare at his newly acquired skill - no one to make uncomfortable with it.

**|03:33:22|**

He drops a card. It floats towards the ground, but he plucks it from freefall before it hits. He slides it back into the middle of the deck, and starts to work with a new card, determined that none of them will touch the floor. They aren't his cards, after all.

**|03:47:15|**

One of the machines lets out a barely audible sound, and Gavin's head snaps up. Is he waking up? Is something wrong, does he need to call for an aide- No, a glance over the monitors shows that the sound is nothing of consequence. The nurse had said Nines likely would not wake up much before seven am. He drops his chin to focus on the cards again.

**|05:07:34|**

There's another noise, this time much more insistent than the previous one. He looks up to the monitors, then stands abruptly, stuffing the deck of cards back into their case. Now he should definitely call a nurse or an aide, if one hasn't already been notified. He steps to the bed, lays a hand on the call button, skin peeling away so he can interface with it to check. A message was automatically sent, lighting up the room number on the callboard at the nurses' station. It is flicked off before he cuts the connection. Someone is responding.

Gavin lets synthetic skin crawl back to cover white casing. The response time of the skin is a few milliseconds slower than it should be - he makes note, leaving the concern for now. He has **|22:19:43:05|** left until he goes into system-forced stasis, so it will be dealt with before long.

He glances down, slides his fingers from the call button to Nines' arm, sets the smooth pads of his fingers against the man's pulse. It's steady, regular. Soothing. Gavin sighs lightly, listens to the air escape from his mouth. He looks to the monitors arranged around the head of the bed, scans them and files the information they offer. They don't quite prepare him, however, for when he drops his gaze a foot and sees pale blue eyes blinking groggily at him.

His hand jerks away from Nines' wrist, and the nurse's arrival provides him with an excuse to step back. Those eyes follow him until the nurse comes between them, cutting off the direct view.

The nurse - Sunny H., her nametag says - checks the monitors, silences the one that had auto-sent the alert, talks softly to Nines. Asks how he's feeling, if he can tell her his name, the date (or yesterday's date, at least). She steps back after a moment, looks at Gavin. "I'll inform his brother and the other android when I see them, but there shouldn't be too much going on in this room for a couple hours more, alright?" He nods quickly, watches her leave.

"Gav'n," Nines says, his voice weak. "You're- you okay?" Gavin drops into his chair again, looks back to his partner.

"F-fuck," Gavin replies. He isn't sure what he's feeling - he isn't sure what stupid emotion is crashing over him like a bathtub full of water right now. He isn't sure if he likes it or not. "I'm- Y-yeah, I'm okay, I'm f-fine. Don't worry about me, alright? Worry about you, worry about- about you gettin better." He realizes suddenly that he won't know when Hank and Connor are informed. So he does it himself, sends an image from memory to Hank, time-stamped a few seconds ago, with Nines wide-eyed and relatively alert looking. "Fuck." His shoulders shake when he exhales, and he drops his forehead to the bed.

"You sure?"

Gavin laughs, low and uneven. **|Relief|** is a pretty good match for what he's feeling. "Yeah, fuck, yeah I'm sure. Better now that you've decided to wake up."

Nines nods, sinks back into his pillow a little. "Did- Does Connor-"

"Yeah, Hank an' the Lieutenant are here. Came runnin when I called, and helped drag you out of that house." Gavin licks his lips. He doesn't know why he goes through the motion, not really, though there is some emotion warring with relief. It feels like blame, like… guilt. He isn't fond of it, but he's fairly confident he deserves it. "Fuck, 'm sorry Nines, I shoulda-"

The man frowns softly, lifts his hand and flops it in Gavin's direction. "Shhhh," he says. Gavin opens his mouth to try again - try what, he isn't clear on, not yet - but Nines moves his hand again, flutters his fingers. What is that supposed to mean? Nines turns pale eyes on him in something probably intended as a glare, fingers still doing that fluttering thing. Nines rolls his eyes, huffs a breath. "Come- c'mere, Gav'n." His system almost classifies it as an order, this apparent request for physical touch.

He reaches forwards, dragging his chair across the floor for the stretch to be slightly less awkward. If it was received as an order, he has to admit it's not one he would even think about breaking through. Nines is clutching at his hand, the man's fingers loosening after a few seconds while he offers Gavin a soft, dopey grin. That's the other reason he wouldn't bother refusing the request - he's heard that hospital painkillers fuck with emotions and rational thought, so if he refused there's no telling how Nines would react. He doesn't want to risk dealing with tears, not right now.

Gavin sighs lightly and runs his free hand through his hair. "I uh- I'm really fuckin glad you're okay," he mutters abruptly, knowing Nines won't quite hear the hushed sentiment.

"Hmm?"

"Don't worry about doing up your report for the past twelve fuckin hours or whatever. I'll get it all done," is what he says, louder, instead of repeating himself.

"Mmkay," Nines says with a nod. Maybe he'll remember this whole exchange. Maybe not. Gavin finds that he doesn't care, really. When he thinks of teasing his partner later about asking to hold his hand while all drugged up, he can't imagine getting any amusement out of it.

He kinda likes the physical touch actually, likes the way Nines is lazily stroking the back of his hand and squeezing his fingers randomly. It makes him think about antagonism and cooperation, and he thinks that cooperation and following orders probably isn't as bad as he worries it could be, not if Nines is the one giving the orders.

Nines hums, and Gavin refocuses. His processes are a little too strained to split his attention and still be effective, and there's no competition between his partner versus the musings he's been working through tonight. "Gav'n, you should… should bring me your jacket-hoodie-thing," Nines announces, eyes half closed like he's falling asleep. "I like that stupid thing."

Gavin snorts. Yeah right, the man's been scoffing over his convertible uniform jacket since the moment he saw it. "Sure Anderson," he finds himself saying anyways. Again, it isn't recognized as an order, but fuck if Gavin won't do it anyways. "If you really fuckin want it, I'll do that." Nines nods, brow furrowed in a show of seriousness and certainty. This is actually almost fun, seeing Nines out of it like this. Weird as fuck, but almost fun.

And, of course, the door opens then, Connor hurrying bright-eyed into the room like the news of Nines waking up has magically filled him up with a full night's sleep and a tall cup of coffee- No, actually, the tall cup of coffee would be the travel mug Hank is carrying.

"Connorrr," Nines croons, pale face lighting up. The Lieutenant's breath hitches but he keeps moving, coming up beside Gavin who slips his fingers out of Nines' grip in the distraction of excitement.

"Fucking hell Nines, you scared me buddy," Connor says, the words falling out of his mouth in a way that suggests he hadn't meant to say such a thing. Gavin smirks, stepping back and lifting the chair to create more space. Nines' expression falls, and Connor hurries to rectify that incoming catastrophe. "It's okay, you're okay, everyone's good now." The soft grin returns as Nines looks from Connor to Hank, and back to Gavin.

"Okay Connor? Okay." Gavin starts to wonder if it might be better for his partner to go back to sleep, let the anesthesia work its way through his body. "Cham," Nines mumbles, tone abruptly dropping low with his gaze still on Gavin as he flutters his fingers at Connor.

"Fuck," Connor says as he moves even closer, obediently letting Nines grab his hand. "The cats, someone will need to check in on them." He sighs. "And that means me, I guess."

"I have access to the apartment," Gavin offers. He doesn't have experience with the cats aside from meeting them and not getting scratched up in the seven minutes Nines had him wait that one time. Connor is looking at him almost suspiciously, but clearly too drained to seem properly threatening. "You stay here, I can figure it out." The Lieutenant hesitates briefly, then nods. Hank flashes Gavin a look, but stays quiet while he steps up to the bed beside Connor. "Hey Anderson, I'll take care of your cats. You focus on takin care of you, alright?" Nines blinks at him, free hand jerking as if to beckon him close enough to grab again. Gavin pretends not to see the attempted movement. Nines is gonna crash soon, he can practically see it in the next slow blink.

Gavin turns, almost stumbling but easily catching his balance. He must have got caught up on one of the motor function command paths that needs work yet.

Hank had moved close at the falter, expression all glazed calculation like he's running a scan. "Minor," Gavin says quietly in reassurance. "I'm gonna go into stasis for a bit at RK's apartment. Deal with the shit that's still fucked up after the Android Unit." Hank nods in understanding, but Gavin has a feeling the older android goes ahead and finishes his scan anyways. "So uh, see ya." He strides to the door, ignoring the sound of soft voices as the humans start talking.

It's easy enough to set his destination and let his mind drift as he walks through the hospital, wondering what all had actually happened to Nines - he still doesn't have more than that first analysis - and he realizes that he doesn't know how long his partner's going to be held up in the hospital. He sets the objective for himself as he steps outside, also calling a cab and updating his destination.

**> ACQUIRE DETAILS OF RK's RECOVERY STATUS**

**-DESTINATION: 20800 Wyoming Ave, Ferndale, MI-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally have only the vaguest idea as to how anesthesia affects ppl /makes them act so yeah... google was surprisingly unhelpful? it was all here have history! and here have how it works! and here have info on different ~kinds! but apparently i was using all the wrong search terms to get info on how people actually /act/ sooo i worked something up  
> and who knows how the use of anesthesia is gonna change in the next 20 years! not me!!  
> also wow this seems like a really long chapter???  
> also also, i'm suddenly feeling like these main two are super ooc? like even just compared to how i've been writing them so far, which, i mean, most of what we've seen of Gav in this fic is a stuttering, half-frozen mess,, and i haven't spent a whole lotta time really characterizing Nines but he has a very valid excuse for not bein his usual self here... but still. anyways..  
> probably one more chapter? possibly split for varying POV, but yeah. after that i've got like.... one idea mostly written up that fits in i'm-not-sure-where in this series, so.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGS: I'm gonna say that SELF-HARM IDEATION applies... it's not self-harm per say, but that's the closest that i can think of. In that line of thought, I'm also gonna say DEPRESSION sorta applies.  
> Gavin is struggling a bit with _feelings_

_"Come here for a moment." Nines keys in a series of commands and lifts his hand to beckon Gavin closer without looking up, as if expecting hesitation._

_"What are you doing?" Gavin waits a few seconds, just for the sake of being contrary, before stepping nearer._

_Nines scoffs. Rolls his eyes, tabs one last thing in on the tablet before turning and holding the screen out. "I'm setting you up with the electronic key to my apartment. Connor's told me all about how Hank has 'gained entrance' to his house a couple times now, and I'd rather not find myself in a situation where I'm forced to replace any windows or doors." He grabs Gavin's hand, presses it down against the tablet. It reads his biomechanics and encodes his readings so the doors will recognize his touch._

_\--_

He sets his hand on the building's exterior lockpad. The device checks his access privileges and chirps precisely two seconds later, granting him entry. He steps through the doorway, walks to the elevator. He hardly moves his eyes; barely turns his head, but he's got his perception dialled up high enough so that he doesn't have to directly observe his surroundings to 'see' them. He's also already linked in to the building's security cameras to give him additional warning if someone attempts to sneak up on him. After the night they'd had, his threat assessment has been running constantly since he left the hospital. **|Anxiety|** his processors offer up as an explanation, **|Paranoia|.**

Sure, so long as whatever it's called gets him on the other side of Nines' fancy and _good_ security system without incident.

He chooses the elevator, because he doesn't know if the remaining corruption in his secondary motor pathways will affect the actions required for climbing stairs - if he can manage without trying to use those corrupted command paths, it'll keep them better quarantined.

Walking into the elevator, out of it eight seconds later, one floor up, and down the hall to number 204 feels almost like drifting or floating with the way he's got his perception altered. It's a little weird, but he's tired. Everything seems a little weird right now, like the way the door to 204 seems like it should be wider than it appears to be to his indirect sensors. Though everything is almost double-edged - an effect of tapping into the cameras.

None of that matters though, as the lock-device lets him into the apartment and he slips out of the security camera network. Nines' apartment is only weird in that it is dark, and the fact that the man himself is not present. There are several auto-lights that flicker on immediately after the door closes behind Gavin, brightening the space and showing one cat sitting on the coffee table where he's pretty sure she isn't allowed to be. She watches him but makes no movement to get down, only flicking her tail. Red and white, mismatched eyes - that's Hex. The other is Chamomile, a silver tabby who is nowhere in sight.

He runs through his objectives now that he has made it into the apartment.

**> CHECK ON CATS**

**> >Refill water bowl**

**> ENTER FULL STASIS MODE**

**> >Find a location for stasis**

Alright, that all should be easy enough - Nines had insisted on stopping at the apartment after their shifts ended to feed the cats, though they should be due for food within a couple hours. Gavin takes a few steps in, then quickly stops, leaning down as he remembers instructions from several days ago to _take those fucking shoes off before walking on the hardwood, goddamnit._ He deposits the footwear against the wall and moves forward again, heading towards the three ceramic bowls tucked away beside the tall cabinet. He pauses to recall Monday of last week, when he had come by an hour and twenty-two minutes before their shifts were scheduled to begin, on account of a new case- But that isn't the important part. The important part is that he had observed Nines feeding the cats that morning.

He follows the actions from his memory, opening one small can each of **|GO! SENSITIVITY + SHINE GRAIN FREE FRESHWATER TROUT + SALMON PATE|** and **|GO! FIT + FREE CHICKEN, TURKEY + DUCK PATE RECIPE|** , setting the contents into the same bowls as Nines had done.

Hex comes over quickly, twining about his legs for ten seconds and rubbing her head against his shin before turning the entirety of her attention to the bowl that is coloured blue and gold. The silver and green one will be Chamomile's then. The bowl in the middle - sporting a messily painted fish in the centre - is for water, and it is currently empty. Gavin picks it up, fills it from the kitchen faucet and walks back to put it down, considering the bonus objective that had appeared the moment he reached the sink -

**> WASH THE DISHES**

It's not a huge mess, but there are six pieces of cutlery, one pot, one bowl, one plate, three mugs, and one glass in the sink. He currently has **|21:02:40:09|** until his system will force stasis. He does not know for certain, but he expects that Nines will not be released from the hospital for twenty-four hours at the earliest. He sighs softly.

The dishes take twenty-one minutes and thirteen-point-two-seven seconds, counting the six minutes and two-point-one-zero seconds it took for him to locate a container of dish soap. Gavin leaves the washed dishes to airdry in the tray beside the sink and turns around, catching a glimpse of Hex by the water bowl.

His objectives update, and all that is remaining is stasis.

As he had mentioned to Hank, he figures he might as well stay at Nines' home to initiate stasis - it's closer to the hospital than his own tiny apartment is, and it is convenient to have someone there in case anything is desired, like clothing, or an ebook. He should choose a spot to go into stasis then, somewhere he can sit down because he's been informed several times by both Andersons, among others, that initiating stasis while standing in the middle of a room or even against a wall is _really fucking creepy_.

He walks around the island, considers the stools for a moment but soon continues towards the couch. His spot, on the odd occasion he's here waiting long enough to be prompted to sit, has been on the right end of the couch, mostly because the left end is too close to an end table with drawers for him to walk around that side. So he approaches his spot without further hesitation and settles down into it.

The sub-objective flickers away, leaving only actually initiating stasis now, and he sees that doing the dishes has altered the maximum running time until he ends up in a system forced stasis - he only has **|19:20:42:11|** now, not that he'll need the time.

He does just… sit for a while though, dismissing the countdown.

It is fifty-eight minutes until sunrise, and the sky has not begun to lighten yet.

He's already catalogued and analyzed Nines' apartment (what he's seen at least), so he isn't certain why he feels an inclination to complete some task before finally initiating stasis. He stares towards the wall, ignoring the TV and decorations placed on various flat surfaces while he ponders the suspected task. The objectives he's had since his last voluntary stasis ( **ended 07:35:24:03** ) have all been fulfilled or dismissed, there is nothing incomplete.

He finds himself thinking about the House again, the rescue, the raid. Their fight beforehand. The way he'd shoved Nines up against a nearby garage, pinning him with a fraction of his strength and one arm levered across the top of the man's chest- except he'd overcalculated a bit, with Nines' height and the sidewalk versus lawn, and his arm had ended up pressed against a frail human throat instead.

Nines deserves an apology for that, at the very least, for how Gavin had dismissed his concerns, emotions, hesitation, and had met all that with the threat of violence instead. Funny how feelings can cloud judgement - he's only now beginning to see just how much power these stupid emotions he has no choice about can have over even his impressive processors. It's a problem - but it's a problem he has to learn to work around.

But sometimes he thinks life, such as it is, would be significantly better without emotions.

If he really wanted, Gavin thinks he knows how to mess around with his programming and his wiring to minimize or completely remove the emotions that plague him. Everyone would find it easier to work with him, he knows that for sure, if he didn't have the inexplicable urge to use sarcasm and curse and threaten anyone who walks past. There wouldn't be the issue of Gavin insisting on his own plan, his own way of doing things, unless he deemed it a genuinely superior plan or method.

He slumps down on the couch, in his spot on the right side, and stares at the line where wall meets ceiling. He's thought about it. A fair bit actually, so many times that Hank would probably be scandalized to hear the number.

It doesn't feel… right, though, to cut away a part of him, no matter how unwanted, when it's only been three months since Markus, Jericho, _Hank_ had fought for the right to be recognized as living, feeling beings and when thousands of androids had died in that fight.

This will be marked in his memory banks as just another moment when he's thought about tearing his emotions away and has come to the conclusion that he won't, not this time.

Chamomile hops up onto the couch beside him and she makes a soft sound, looking up to him for a moment. He lowers his gaze to meet her single eye and waits, a little curious to see what she'll do unprompted. She crouches, shoves her face up between his elbow and his torso, effectively pushing herself half into his lap, arm tucked across the top of her warm body. She begins to purr even though he isn't actually petting her, the vibrations felt more acutely in his leg and arm than in his audio receptors.

He sighs and raises his eyes to the seam of ceiling and wall again, letting his body conform to the couch and the inverse.

It's been a long twelve hours, and he's ready for a rest.

**> RESETTING PERCEPTION SENSORS**

**> INITIALIZING FULL SYSTEM STASIS**

**< RECOMMENDED STASIS TIME: 09:28:16:01**

**> SET STASIS TIME: 24:00:00:00**

**> INITIATE STASIS: ~~YES~~ /NO**

**> SET STASIS TIME: 09:30:00:00**

**> INITIATE STASIS: YES/ ~~NO~~**

**> INITIATING FULL SYSTEM STASIS: 06:38:30:22h**

**_> Goodnight NK900_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suddenly Gavin started having feelings??? that I was not anticipating...?  
> whoops
> 
> ANYWAYS the next chapter or two are basically gonna be the continuation of this one in a way? featuring some flip-flopping POV


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unexpected existential crisis anyone? (so unexpected it surprised me too)  
> uhhh yup  
> warning for the same strain of SELF-HARM IDEATION as there was last chap, though less intense b/c it's from someone else's POV  
> ALSO we start out in Connor's POV, then shift to Hank's for the rest of the chapter.  
> also also, in "Roleswap" Kamski was as he is in the game, but I've since been thinking about swapping Elijah and Chloe, and here I have done so.  
> the '~' symbol does mark something, as does the different font. should be pretty obvious, but yeah.

|09:38am|

The sound of his car door slamming echoes in the empty parking lot. Connor doesn't care. He is so fucking far past caring about closing the door harder than necessary right now, he doesn't fucking care what damage the extra force might do to the car. Not right now. No, right now he is focused on the familiar building in front of him, the sidewalk leading up to the glass double doors. He stalks up the cleared path, dimly registering the sound of Nines' car coming to a stop near his own, Hank at the wheel. His android is in time to accompany him up to apartment 204 then.

"Lieutenant," Hank calls out. Connor just keeps walking. Hank catches up just as Connor reaches out and pulls the glass door open, stepping inside. He continues to ignore the android as he turns to the intercom-lock pad and places his hand on the screen, waiting with a stillness he doesn't really feel while it checks his access privileges, unlocking the door after a few seconds.

Connor heads for the stairs, not particularly wanting to be forced to stand and wait for the elevator. Hank seems to have finally picked up on his mood, because the android just follows quietly down the hall to the staircase, staying silent while they climb one flight. They exit the stairwell not long after, Connor making a sharp turn and it would seem Hank has decided to cut the silence.

"Reed is not responding to my communication requests," he notes, and Connor frowns. The android had been doing just fine when he'd ditched them in Nines' room a couple hours ago, what the hell could have happened? "I suspect he is nonresponsive as a result of initializing a full system stasis, that was his plan."

"So he's asleep," Connor says, translating and summarizing. The point is, the android should be in the apartment, and that's all Connor cares about. "Fucking fantastic, guess we'll have to wake him up then." He hurries forwards, out of Hank's reach as he sets his hand on the doorknob, the system scanning his biometrics and confirming his access. He steps inside and sees a pair of boots set against the wall. Hex is sitting on the chair near their bowls, so they've been fed. At least Reed did something right.

The android's on the couch; back curved and head tipped forwards as if relaxed, Cham cuddled under one of his arms. Connor feels a brief stab of guilt at what he plans to do, but it fades quickly and fear-fuelled anger takes its place. He clicks his tongue, watches the cat perk up and then he wiggles his fingers to entice her to move. She does, needing no more encouragement, slipping out of Reed's lap and leaping to the ground, coming closer to rub up against Connor's leg expectantly. He picks Cham up, gives her a one good stroke down her back then turns and hands her off to Hank.

His android makes a startled sound and freezes, but Connor trusts that he'll quickly figure out how to hold one damn cat. He's got something bigger to handle himself. He steps forwards, twists one hand in the uniform shirt Reed hadn't bothered to change out of, and hauls him up off the couch. It's only when the android is hanging mostly limp in his grip that Connor is surprised at the ease with which he'd lifted Reed, but then he remembers a wisp of conversation, _'ultra light'_ mentioned in the typical bragging tone.

"Wake up Reed," Connor says sharply. The LED flickers from silent, soft white to red for an instant before going back to white. The android still doesn't move though. "NK900, _wake up."_ His tone makes it an order, but the only reaction is the LED returning to red.

"Lieutenant, it will take a moment for-" Connor ignores Hank's soft tone, drawing his free hand back with the intention of slapping Reed across the face. Hank intercepts the hand though, and when he speaks again his tone is more insistent, harsher. "Reed's full system stasis is only 31.754% complete, he won't be alert imme-"

"F-f-fuckin what?" Reed croaks suddenly. After a moment, one hand goes up to his throat as he blinks several times, getting his eyes into focus after a few seconds instead of staring blankly ahead. "What's goin on?" His gaze lands on Hank's yellow-blue-yellow LED, on Connor grasping his overshirt. "Fuck, don't tell me th-th-that- Did somethin happen, is Anderson alright?"

"Goddamn," Connor spits, releasing Reed and yanking his wrist from Hank's grip. "Nines is fucking fine still, no thanks to you, prick." Reed's LED cycles blue briefly, then returns to yellow.

"So what the hell is goin on?" He takes half a step backward, shifting his gaze to Hank for a moment, then back to Connor.

The Lieutenant takes a step forward to close the new distance, his warm eyes hardening as he raises a hand, jabbing his finger into Reed's chest. "The fuck did you think you were doing out there last night?" Reed is frowning like he's confused.

"I'm sorry I ditched Chen to turn off the fucking disruptor field," he starts, but Connor lets out a frustrated groan, cutting him off.

"I'm not talking about that, though that sounds like a goddamn perfect way to round out your decision making flaws!" He jabs at the android again, and Reed sways backwards a second after Connor's finger hits, like his reaction speed is delayed. "I'm talking about your fucking stupid plan that could've got my brother killed! I'm talking about you running ahead and freezing up and your goddamn partner getting shot because he was too busy trying to protect your ass that he couldn't watch his own back!" Connor hears a thump behind him when he pauses for breath, and sees Chamomile slink beneath the coffeetable to get to the bookcase in the corner.

Reed hunches his shoulders, crossing his arms and aiming his glare at Connor. "I'm already blaming myself, you think I need you helpin me feel shitty too?"

"Sometimes I wonder if you feel anything!"

Gavin stumbles back like he was hit, LED red and his eyes wide as they each suck in air, surprise at the retort silencing both of them. "That's enough!" Hank growls, grabbing hold of Connor's shoulder and spinning him around, away from Gavin. "Connor, go get the car warmed up." The expression on his face is enough to quiet whatever protests may have been queued up, and the human stalks around Hank, flinging the door open and disappearing through it. Hank turns his attention to Gavin, who is staring at the door with that shocked look still on his face and his hands shaking. "Reed, you need to calm down."

"F-fuck that," he spits, stammering, looking significantly more shaken than angry now.

"Your stress level is at eighty-seven percent." Hank's outwardly calm statement doesn't hold even the slightest amount of the sharp, dark fear striking him as he keeps an eye on the stat where it hovers in red over Reed's shoulder.

"W-what? But- No, I…" Gavin holds his position for a moment longer, then he's practically collapsing forwards, falling to his knees between the coffeetable and the couch. "F-f-fucking hell, I don't- I'm-" His entire body is trembling, and Hank sees his level of stress fluctuate, from **|87%|** jumping up to **|90%|** , then sliding down through **|89%|** , **|88%|** , **|86%|** , **|84%|**... His LED stutters, and his stress level goes up again. "H-Hank, I don't want to," Gavin whimpers, fingers scrabbling against the rug. "I'm sc- But it's- it's my fault, it is, it i s _i t  i s-"_

**> LEVEL OF STRESS: 95%**

Hank steps forwards, kneels more gracefully than Gavin had, but his movements are still a little jerky. His auto-complete algorithm runs even as he reaches out, dropping a hand on the younger android's shoulder. _'I'm sc-'_ **_|scared|_** the algorithm offers as the most likely word. Fuck it, so is Hank. He hasn't had to deal with the threat of an android self-destructing in a while, he feels- he feels unprepared, especially because he has a personal interest in ensuring Gavin's well-being. Connor is easier to work with when he's happy; Connor is happier when RK is happy; RK has been more effective, level-headed, mentally and emotionally present since the NK900 was assigned as his partner. Besides, he's a pain in the ass but Hank is very aware that his Social Relations protocol has Gavin logged as **Friend**.

"Hey, hey Reed, take a breath, alright?" He knows both their simulated breathing programs are running. He also knows that telling Connor to breathe often helps the man focus on that instead of whatever causes him to panic. "Inhale for-" Hank pauses for a millisecond, searches through breathing counts, trying to decide if one count will be more appropriate than another until he remembers that he's talking to an android. "- a count of four, alright? Come on now- and out for four."

**> LEVEL OF STRESS: 94%**

Hank flicks his attention to the auto-devices in the apartment, finds the lights and turns them all off. Then he shifts his position, sitting on the floor properly and reaching down slowly to wrap his fingers around Gavin's wrists. He pulls, gently, encouraging the younger android to shuffle forwards, and when that is met with zero resistance, he pulls until the smaller body is tucked against his side. "Keep breathing, right? In for four… out for one-two-three-four." Gavin follows the directions, his breath hitching but conforming to the count.

**> LEVEL OF STRESS: 92%**

This is working, but not quick enough. If Hank can't lower that number to at least 75%, then any little thing could ramp it back up again to dangerous levels. "Can I show you something Gavin?" Gavin's shoulders jerk, startled at the use of his name, but he lets out a soft keening sound as he nods sharply. Hank takes a deep breath himself as he taps into the hospital cameras and brings up RK's record. He slides one arm around Gavin's back, hugging him close, and removes the synthetic skin on his other hand, preparing to interface. He raises a series of filters to protect himself from the direct emotions, panic, and anxiety, then grasps Gavin's forearm.

**< INITIALIZING CONNECTION…**

Hank tries to ignore Gavin's freak out now that they're connected, and focuses on the cameras first to pull up the current feed of RK's room. He nudges the video stream to Gavin, feels him latch on to the image even as he expresses blame, regret, hate, all directed inwardly. _'He's fine,'_ Hank says, sweeping his attention over each machine in the hospital room, actively noting the data and feeling Gavin's focus flow along with him. _'What happened happened, but he is fine now, and so are you.'_

 _'Lieutenant's right,'_ floats back in subconscious response. _'My fault, my fault-don't deserve to-don't want feelings, don't want-'_ Hank is starting to get overwhelmed. Gavin's processors are advanced even compared to his, and the self-blame that is getting pushed across their connection is… is almost too much, even with the filters he'd thrown up.

 _'Breathe,'_ Hank says - orders - as he takes a moment to adjust his filters. He needs to know what Gavin's feeling, but he doesn't need that taking over and controlling his own emotions. His stress level has risen too.

Gavin breathes, only a sliver of attention going to the function to keep to the four count, and then he's sending memory snapshots to Hank, as if to convince him of something.

_"I have a plan"- he shakes off RK's restraining hand with a sneer._

_-stress, stress, someone else is gonna die if-_

_"-we were too fucking slow-"_

_"-we're both gonna get killed!" - almost happened anyway, almost- too slow to help, too prou-_

_-shoving Nines against the garage, he's strong enough to hold him down, to force him to agree-_

_-forearm on throat, fragile fragile human-carries him, pushes him, covers him, protects hi-_

**_> GUNSHOT Ẅ̷̜̜͍̖͖͋̾̚͘͘O̴̻̱̲̱͐͜͠ͅŲ̸͎͙̺͓͉̣̲͙́͑͌N̵̢͙̱̪̼̲̰̳̰̔͋̆̈́̅̎̅͝D̵̟̤̺̃̍̓̂ͅ ̵̛͍̑̈͗͑̔͘͠ON LEFT SHO̴̪̖̹̞͈̗̅͌̌ͅƯ̷̡̞̖͍͗̈́̑̎̚͜Ľ̴͇͇̖͋̿͛́̇̚Ḑ̸̢̡̬͇̟̺̗̍̓E̷̯̫̻͋̕͝͝Ṛ̷̣̻̪̬̏͋̂̾>̷̘̺̜̫́̓͐̈́̍̈́͘CUT ON ̶̮͓̘͙̱̤̜̽̈́̐͒͊͠LEFT ̸͕̪̻̳̫̤͈̙͗̑̿̑̏Ö̸͓̣̯̩̩́̅͊̅͌͐U̷̧̝͙̜̣̇̋̿͋͒͘̚T̸̛̪̲̭͎̤̺͖̼̼̩͗͌̔͌́E̷͔͔̙̞̣͖͑̾̃͋̅͑̈́̄̀̚R̶̝̆̾ ̷̡̳̜͛̅̈́͑̊͆̓́̕ͅTHIGH>̷̵̘̺̜̫̟̥̘͖͚̼́̓͐̈́̍̈́̈́͘̚̚ͅCƠ̴͚̖͝N̵̡̤̖͉̥͇̙̙̆́͂T̴̩͔̖̥̺̆ͅŲ̷̭͕̪̄̍͆͒̐̓Ṥ̵̺͚̣̝͍͗́̃͗̓̓_ ** **_▒▓█_ ** _-injured for him, unconscious, captured-_

_~~-deserted him, pushed him aw a y-~~ _

_-"Go Reed, that's a fucking order"-can't break through, stupid order, stupid, need to help rescue protect C A N ' T B R E A K-_

_-Nines in Hank's arms, pale, bloody, shirt ripped skin ripped bloo-my fault my fau l t m y f a U L T-_

_-sometimes he thinks life, such as it is, would be significantly better without emotions-without fear, without pride without paranoia anxiety without envy without arrogance hubris control need for control need control I n e e d control---_

Hank is freaking out. Why? Because Gavin is freaking out -again, still- and they're both stuck in that loop now, and he knows their stress levels are too high, too high to be safe, too high to break the connection and not-

Connor calls him; he rejects the call so quickly he's surprised at the speed. _|stay in car|_ he messages back. He can't give him more, he can't explain, doesn't have the _time_ to waste-

Hm, time…

Hank pulls up a sub-routine he'd buried so deep that he forgets about it regularly (until he remembers again, regularly) and they're suddenly in the Zen Garden.

~It's spring, a season Hank can't recall seeing before. The snow is gone, a sharp contrast to the last time he'd been dragged here that he is _not thinking about now-_ and the ground is dark, fresh soil, green things just beginning to poke above the surface. Amanda is not here. He just _knows_ , just as he knows, the information presenting itself immediately, that there is no backdoor because he initiated the sub-routine and he can shut it down just as easily.

~Gavin is on his knees, palms pressed against the pathway a few steps away from Hank. _'Whuh-what is th-this place, is it- what…'_

~Hank strides over, crouches and sets his hands on Gavin's shoulders. _'The Zen Garden,'_ he offers. Gavin shudders, straightening abruptly and looking about with wide eyes. _'She doesn't exist anymore. I purged her from my system, and Ms Kamski has assured me that she has been removed completely from CyberLife as well. She doesn't exist anywhere but my memory banks.'_

~The younger android goes limp until he's supported only by Hank's hands. His stress level reads at **|82%|,** though Hank is fairly certain that's an inaccurate, low reading.

~ _'Listen to me,'_ Hank says, and he waits a moment. Gavin drags in a breath and lifts his chin just far enough for grey eyes to meet soft blue. Hank is making an attempt to repress his own feelings for now, giving the emotional loop a chance to break down and fade. _'Everything is fine, everyone made it out okay.'_

~Gavin's head drops once more. _'My fault,'_ he whispers. _'I shouldn't have- I should be reassigned, get a placement somewhere that I can't put people at risk. Somewhere that he- people will be safe from me.'_ He chuckles, low and devoid of amusement. _'Or I should just purge my emotions. Never been properly deviant, might as well be properly machine. I could do it,'_ he says, looking up, looking at Hank but more like through him with a slight haze in his eyes. _'I know how, they crammed everything they had about deviancy and the 'simulation' of emotions into my databanks, every stimulus-response, every physiological effect, every connecting and command path, and since then I've learned so much more. I could do it.'_

~Hank has stopped breathing. Remarkable, because that simulation is an automated background process and it takes a lot to override that unintentionally, but the feelings he's still trying to repress are, in a word, _powerful._ If Gavin did what he's proposing, then he wouldn't be Gavin anymore. Not really - he would just be NK900, designed to eradicate deviancy by destroying deviants, albeit within the hands of a post-Android Revolution DPD. Actually, Hank knows some of what CyberLife had known and he knows that… he wouldn't exactly be NK900 either, not after such an extensive overhaul of his systems.

~ _'Gavin,'_ he murmurs, hands shaking as he moves to hold the younger android close again. Gavin fights the embrace half-heartedly, like he just doesn't care. _'Please, don't- What happened, happened. Life is about moving forward, improving yourself when you fail and sometimes when you succeed too. Not giving up when you do bad. It's about learning from your actions and making a different decision the next time. It's about **having** a next time."_

~ _'How many next times until you shouldn't get another though?'_ Gavin has given in physically, leaning into Hank's side. _'How many chances until everyone else sees I'm irredeemable too?'_

~Hank has never been happy about Connor's bad moments and days, but at least he's got a bit of experience taking care of someone who's feeling some of what Gavin's feeling right now. _'I…'_ he says, choosing his words carefully. _'I don't believe there is a limit. You know that I… chose to let deviants escape, before I deviated… even when they had hurt humans, because I think I believed even back then that they deserved another chance. Their actions were unacceptable, irredeemable maybe, but they themselves were still trying to be more, to be better. I think that's what is important, a desire to improve and make better choices. And…'_ Hank pauses, looks down at the brunet head pressed against his chest, face hidden to him. _'I think you still have that desire.'_

~Gavin is quiet. On a whim, Hank checks his stress level - **|68%|**. That's a significant drop from the last reading, and, combined with Hank's emotions still somewhat repressed, it's probably safe to break the connection now. He'll wait though, just to be sure. _'Why?'_

~Why? _'You're basically my little brother,'_ Hank says. _'A really annoying, sarcastic prick of a little brother, but I still know you better than anyone else. Besides, if you don't deserve any more chances, why should I get any?'_

~ _'You've- you were part of the Revolution,'_ Gavin answers quickly. _'You helped save so many androids.'_

~ _'I hurt a lot of androids too.'_ The Garden is silent except for their simulated breaths, and Hank shifts uncomfortably, thinking that his words seem particularly heavy in the peaceful sub-routine. He's said them aloud before, to Connor, to Markus, to the leadership crew of Jericho, but they feel more sincere now, more real. _'A lot of them don't trust me fully, even now. I don't blame them, because I know that all our fears and memories are still valid, even though the world is changing, with Detroit at the front line.'_ He falls quiet again, then sighs lightly. _'We've all done things we shouldn't have. Hell, you've only been online for seven weeks. You're practically a baby.'_

~Gavin swats at his arm, grumbling a _'Fuck you,'_ but he seems to be relaxing more.

~ _'Still think purging your emotions and losing the value of everything you've worked through up til now is the best idea?'_ Hank says it, poking fun again because he knows what Gavin's answer will be. The younger android shakes his head, lifting his head a little, and Hank sees that his LED is yellow with the occasional flash of red balanced evenly with blue. _'Are you ready to leave?'_ he asks next, not certain what response he'll get this time.

~ _'Can I just…'_ Gavin shakes his head again and leans back, moving as if to stand. _'Nah, yeah sure.'_ Hank wraps both arms around him for a moment, stopping the movement.

~ _'We can stay for as long as you need. Only one minute and three-point-two-six seconds have passed in real time. There is no rush.'_

~Gavin is still, as if considering, then falls back against Hank with a sigh. _'Gimme like a minute more of this then?'_ he asks softly.

~Hank nods. He starts a real time countdown too, not that he's concerned about the specific amount of time - but he suspects Gavin has set a countdown as well.

~The next minute feels like five there in the Garden, but Hank passes the time quietly, looking over the landscape. There are more changes beyond the season - the rose trellis is gone, as is Kamski's backdoor. The light is… softer, somehow, seemingly less bright but full sun despite that, and it makes the Garden feel welcoming in a way he realizes it never had before. Before, when it was a reporting program primarily, a way for CyberLife to track and guide his decisions. Now, though, now Hank thinks it might be a good space.

~He finds himself wishing he could bring Connor here whenever he has a bad day because he decides he really would go so far as to call the Garden relaxing.

~ _'I think it lives up to its name now,'_ Hank comments when the one minute is up. Gavin's posture changes slightly, and he seems curious. _'It wasn't ever mine, before, and I don't think I truly found it peaceful or meditative.'_ A thought occurs to him as he loosens his arms, allowing Gavin the space to move back. _'I think I'll talk to Ms Kamski, see if I can reprogram parts of it. I'll see if she can give you something like this too.'_

~ _'Wha-'_ Gavin says, startled by the offer, but Hank shuts down the sub-routine before the question is finished.

 _'Better?'_ he asks, feeling Gavin's emotions strongly again but they don't threaten to overwhelm him. The younger android nods slowly, not meeting his gaze. But Hank checks his stress level again and is pleased with the **|40%|** that he sees.

_'Just really fuckin tired.'_

Hank smiles at the admission. He breaks the connection, pats Gavin's shoulder. _'Your stress level is down to 37%, I advise that you attempt to resume stasis.'_ Gavin scoffs, presumably at the 'attempt' but he leans back, as if just now realizing he's still huddled up to Hank's larger body.

Connor calls again, and Hank rejects it, again, but he takes his time about it, no longer worried about lowering stress levels, and sends a more explanatory message back than before. _|I will be out shortly, please continue to wait.|_ Hank suspects the Lieutenant will not be pleased about that. It's alright though, he's almost done here.

 _'Call me if you need anything,'_ he offers with a half smile, using the couch to lever himself up off the floor. He moves around the furniture, hearing rasps of fabric being shifted and frictioned, and assumes that Gavin has gotten up as well, or at least far enough up to resettle on the couch. _'Goodnight Gavin,'_ he finally says in an imitation of the stasis program, pulling open the door. The younger android raises one finger in his direction, and Hank suppresses a laugh as he steps out into the hall.

He rests there a moment after the door has closed. This is the second time he's left someone - ~~son~~ partner, brother - in RK Anderson's apartment after an emotionally draining experience, and it's a testament to his own deviancy that he feels far more affected now than when he had poured the Lieutenant into the Detective's arms after that night near Ambassador Bridge. He'll need to go into stasis himself within the next few days to regroup and refocus, but that can wait.

Hank heads for the elevator this time, calling it remotely, and the doors open milliseconds before he reaches it. It takes eight seconds until the doors reopen on the main floor and he steps out, immediately seeing the Lieutenant's car idling in front of the building. He thinks Connor will expect him to be guilty or sheepish after sending him out of the apartment, but Hank can't dredge up either of those emotions. Gavin had voiced it well, what he is feeling now: 'really fucking tired.'

He leaves the building, walking down the path in silence before he climbs into the passenger seat, half-expecting that he's exuding an icy disappointment. Because he is disappointed. Disappointed, and a little angry, and relieved and weary. He glances at his human before speaking. "If I had understood your intention Lieutenant, we would not be here right now. I would not have permitted you to enter the apartment."

"You wouldn't have permitted this?" Connor is still riled up - upset, angry, protective. "What are you, my fucking babysitter? It's that thing's fault Nines is in the fucking hospital!" It would appear the Lieutenant has not picked up on _his_ mood however.

"And it is in great part your fault that Reed just had the equivalent of a panic attack and could have self-destructed."

Connor stares, silent, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "What the hell?" he whispers, searching Hank's face for any indication that what he'd said was a lie. "Are you fucking serious? No, he wouldn't… Oh my god." Connor swings his gaze forward, staring blankly out the windshield. "I almost wish he wo- Fuck no, no I don't." Hank drops a hand on Connor's arm, drawing his eyes and his attention. " _Fuck_ I should go apologize."

"I don't think that is necessary," Hank says, shifting his hand so his fingers are wrapping around the Lieutenant's arm, just enough to keep him in place. "Besides, he will have returned to full system stasis by now, and another unexpected interruption will likely cause further unease."

"Fuck." Connor squeezes his eyes closed. "Probably shouldn't tell Nines about this." Hank hums in agreement, removing his hand from the human's arm. "Should probably get back to Nines, actually. Do you… Where do you want me to drive you, Hank?"

"I will return to the hospital with you. I do intend to go by the station before noon, though I'll take the bus and leave you with your brother."

Connor nods and blinks. "Okay. Alright, uh, let's go then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gav is again having Upset Feelings that I did not fully anticipate O.o  
> like this chapter probably doubled in length after I wrote Hank sending Connor out of the apartment whoooops?  
> also, just wanted to share with y'all, last chap someone called Gav 'trashbot900 Gavin' in a comment and I just. that is great. that is accurate, and so fantastic. yeah  
> miiiight write like one more chap just to send Gav back to Nines to apologize and stuff and prove he's on a Becoming A Better Person journey... currently undecided aaand I have a paper to write for Wednesday so who knows if I'll spend much time thinking about it for a few days at least. opinions???


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i almost can't believe i need like zero encouragement to continue being trash for a game i haven't even played... but then again, procrastinating on schoolwork is a great motivator too  
> anywho... anyone up for a super tropey/cliche hospital scene??? wherein dumbass Gav talks and talks and allows himself to feel softer emotions and such

Ever since the completion of that full system stasis, Gavin feels better - rested, in control of himself - but also… blank, sort of, like there's something he needs to do even though no objectives have popped up in his HUD aside from feeding and watering the cats again. He did that at **|16:48:45:20h|** , and then called a cab, deciding that a change of clothes was several hours overdue.

Twenty-six minutes later he steps into his own tiny apartment still wearing the police android uniform, and it feels so normal that he pauses for a moment. It's quiet, the low thrum of electric lights really the only sound after the door has closed. He's never thought about it, but his apartment is rather peaceful, surprisingly so considering it's right in downtown Detroit, though he is on the seventh floor. But anyways, it feels normal, like he's just gotten off shift at the station - this is about the time he typically returns home - and intends to change, then review the cases he and Nines are currently assigned to while charging as necessary-

Except he doesn't feel like he has the processor capacity to review any case notes at the moment, regardless of the fact that all his systems are operating within the standard optimal ranges. And Nines is in the hospital. And their primary case is presumably closed now, after the evidence he'd seen in the House and the suspects that had been taken to the station. Fuck, the case really is neatly wrapped up now isn't it, but he can't get over the way it went so spectacularly wrong even as it ended right.

His fault.

Gavin gets the feeling that particular sentiment is going to continue floating through his thoughts for a while. He makes an attempt to distract himself by walking through the apartment, trying to convince himself he's completely focused on the closet and not the black-and-white jacket that's currently thrown over the back of the sofa. He strips out of the police uniform, pulling all the random shit out of the pockets before tossing the pile of navy fabric into the laundry machine then grabbing dark jeans and a grey long sleeve shirt from the closet. So what if each of those pieces of clothing is one of three identical pieces - yeah, his wardrobe really is this pathetic Anderson, get over it.

He pauses again, considering whether remembering week old conversations about his clothing choices is any better than the self-blame, and comes to the conclusion that ruminating on either is not a great choice.

As he starts the laundry cycle and wanders back to the main room, he still feels like there's something he should be doing, some undiscovered objective- His gaze falls on his CyberLife jacket again. Ah, right. Nines had requested the jacket, had asked Gavin to bring it for him with eyes half-lidded and fingers stroking the back of his hand. Not an order, but if anyone asks he'll say that it was. And if anyone asks why he doesn't bother disobeying that order like he does 87% of the time, then he'll say that he's still thrown off by the raid-turned-rescue, still out of sorts. Yeah. That's somewhat true anyways.

Retorts prepared, he grabs the jacket. He slips his hands through the sleeves and pulls up the hood, releasing the extra fabric from its containment in the thick collar. He smirks at the soft blue glow of the lining and at the look on Nines' face the first time he'd worn the hood in the station. Since then, he's gotten much better at identifying the emotions that flit across the man's face - each subtle as if too much emoting will kill him - and when he recalls the expression he sees disbelief and tired resignation.

Although according to a hospitalized-and-drugged-up-Nines, he actually likes it.

Whatever. Gavin calls a cab and heads for the door. If the detective wants his fuckin jacket, he might as well have it.

\--

The roads are busier now than they were half an hour ago, which is to be expected especially when the fact that he's heading out of downtown this time. He cycles through the news stations briefly, sees nothing of note. The world goes on as usual.

Gavin sighs, almost thankful that the cab is fully-automated. Only almost because he doesn't really care what anyone else might think about his behaviour, and besides, most people have gotten used to seeing androids the same as humans. It helps that more than half of the androids he knows don't wear their LEDs anymore, making identification more difficult and less instant.

He wonders if there's a reason why Hank still has his. The Lieutenant calls it a 'mood ring' a lot of the time, clearly poking fun at this point, though Gavin suspects it hadn't begun as such. He supposes it is useful in a typically high stress line of work like their own, LEDs offering insight into the moments that they're in the midst of a review or paperwork, or when the situation needs extra care. He's sure Hank has a reason, or multiple reasons.

He doesn't know why he's kept his own. The NK prototypes designed for investigative work actually have the ability to hide the LED without actually removing it, though he hasn't come across a circumstance when he'd need to.

The cab passes the exits for Wyoming Ave and Gavin looks at his reflection in the window, blue-yellow-blue-yellow circle spinning on his temple. He blinks, accesses the command to hide the LED and does it. The reflection doesn't look much different - a little darker perhaps, without the small light colouring the surrounding synthetic skin and flashing off of stuff. Truthfully, he can't say which he prefers.

The exits for Grand River and Schaefer fly by, then Greenfeld, then Southfield, Evergreen.

Gavin stares out the windshield, ignoring the street signs. He needs to figure out what he's actually gonna say to Nines. An apology, definitely, for like five different things, but he doesn't really want to just say sorry and scram. Maybe he can… thank Nines? For literally picking him up and carrying him out of harm's way. Yeah, also like, apologize for generally being bad-mouthed trash - not that that behaviour's gonna take a 180, so maybe not.

Maybe they can just chat… Cordially, not trying to outperform the other or rip any heads off. Gavin can feel his face scrunching up at that idea, but goddamnit Nines deserves a little bit of effort, right? Fuckin right.

\--

Of course, all his scheming and planning of what to say to his partner is kind of useless while the man's asleep.

He's just standing beside the hospital bed right now, staring blankly down at Nines. Of everything that he'd planned for, Gavin is unprepared for this. _Again._

He doesn't even have Nines' cards anymore, he had pulled the case out of his pocket before shoving his uniform in the laundry twelve hours ago. There's nothing in the pockets of his current outfit to do calibrations with either.

Gavin really, _really fuckin hates_ feeling useless.

He hooks one foot around the leg of the nearest chair, pulls it closer to the bed and drops down into it. He could, uh… start working on the report he'd told Nines he would do. That's a pretty damn useful thing to do, as a matter of fact. He closes his eyes and pulls up the DPD off-site portal, logging in and quickly navigating to after-action reports. There's one prepped already, done about twenty-six hours ago, before they'd left the station to check their locations. He almost opens it right up to start logging information, but there's something blinking in his inbox, flagged with **High Importance**.

Curious, he pulls it up and-

It takes a moment to properly process that he's staring at a 74.2% completed after-action report, with a temporary note from Hank.

The temptation to growl, to curse aloud and maybe throw something is strong. Fuck, he'd been expecting that to keep him occupied for a good twenty minutes at least without a terminal, and now he's spent a total of three filling in missing info and signing the damn thing before submitting it. What's he supposed to do now?

He doesn't want to leave Nines. Not because he's worried this time, or because he thinks someone should stick around when possible in case something happens. No, because he just… He's here, so he might as well hang out at the bedside. No other reason beyond convenience. ~~(He's pretty sure.)~~

That does cut out most of his options though.

He sits for nine minutes and eleven-point-one-six seconds, quiet and still, before finally giving in to the slight agitation. He pulls up a song from his memory banks, deconstructs it to find the melody and main beat, tapping the piano notes out on his knees. He repeats the exercise three more times and sighs, splaying his fingers across his legs. Why did he even come back to the hospital? Nines being asleep is no surprise, and it's not like an apology is time sensitive anyways.

Gavin leans forwards, folding his arms on the edge of the bed and setting his chin down on top of them.

"Maybe my decision-making protocols need an external diagnostic," he mutters. He glances up the bed towards Nines' head, sees the man's eyes still firmly closed. Well, what the hell. A lot of literature details people speaking to patients while they're asleep, and while the reigning professional opinion is that it offers no benefit to coma patients, everyone seems to agree that the activity causes no impairment. And that's all Gavin needs - a harmless activity that will keep him occupied enough to not get bored. So he opens his mouth again. "I hope you aren't as out of it when you wake up again Anderson. There's some shit I actually wanna say to you."

Maybe he'll say some of it now, some of the stuff he's pretty sure he really does mean but isn't quite confident in saying aloud.

"I, uh… You're pretty great actually, you know. I get it, you don't fuckin care about being singled out in the precinct and getting officially recognized and shit, but you deserve it. Hell, it's only cause of you that we didn't both go down in that shithole last night." Gavin shakes his head, laughs at himself. "It's cause of you we made it out, it's cause of me we were in trouble in the first place." He unfolds his arms, reaches out to Nines' wrist and sets his fingers against the pulse there again. If anyone asks, he's just-

If anyone asks, it's soothing, feeling the measured flow of blood that proves his partner is alive. It is soothing.

"The cats are good, I fed em again before leaving," he says to change the subject, smoothing the pad of one finger up and down a little on Nines' wrist. "Didn't realize Chamomile was such a cuddly little fucker, but that clever creature pretty much shoved her way into my lap before I went into stasis. I think she stayed there the whole nine hours, too. Fuckin cats man. I think I know why you like em, they're just like you." He flicks his gaze up to the headboard then drops his forehead down to the blanket. He almost feels tired again. He was designed for movement, for investigations where he has to shift from analyzing to reconstructions to interrogations to chases. Waiting is not in his original programming.

He shifts his fingers, wraps them around Nines' wrist gently and feels the bones, solid beneath his grip and the muscle, tendons, and skin that cover them. Soothing still, just in more of a grounding way.

A shuffle through his memory brings more stuff to chatter about, but he stays quiet for a few seconds. Nearly half a minute actually, not that it matters when his conversation partner doesn't really count as such. "I picked up some succulent leaves." He decides to omit the _where_ , for now at least. "Dunno what type they are, or if they'll even grow into proper plants, but I got em. It's not like I have any idea what to do with the damn leaves though, so I'll need a little help on that. I figured that- well, it could be something like a…" The sentence trails off, because he had thought it would be a nice gift, but he suddenly isn't sure what sort of gift - a thank you, or a get well, or just random work-partner-to-work-partner gift? But that would probably be weird. "A fuckin gift or something."

There's movement against his fingers - and when the hell had he transitioned from holding onto Nines' wrist to fuckin holding his hand? "Anderson?" he says, soft as he lifts his head to look. Sure, he'd like to have a legit conversation, but his head is kinda spinning from trying to think about how to propose his gift of succulent leaves and he isn't exactly prepared to have an honest-to-rA9 conversation yet.

"Mmm," the man sighs, squeezing Gavin's fingers with a fraction of his usual strength.

Gavin doesn't dare move, just waits and finds himself holding his breath. After a moment, he exhales and speaks. "You awake?"

"Wha'appened to your thinkin' light?" Nines asks, the words tinged with a slur and an innocence that tells Gavin without question that he's still affected by medication of one sort or another.

His free hand flies up to his temple, feels smooth synthetic skin where the thing sits. "Oh, I uh… Just tryin out a new look," he drawls in response, too surprised that his detective would even ask after the LED to come up with a better retort. Nines' face twists, not quite a frown and not quite a pout. "Hey hey, I'll put it back, don't worry or anythin." He accesses the command again, toggles it the other way. In all honesty, he'd sort of forgotten that he hadn't unhid the LED.

"Y'look better with y'r light." Fuck, is that… is that _fondness_ in Nines' tone? Whaaat the fuck.

Gavin bites back the loudmouth response that he usually makes, opting for something softer. "Some people don't think so." Some people think that no android should keep their LED - some go so far as to suggest that the small indicator be made illegal. Some of those people are androids.

"They c'n go fuck themselves," Nines announces, blinking down at Gavin and looking more alert by the second. "It's your choice- but for what it's worth, I like it." _That_ doesn't hit Gavin like a punch to the gut, of course not, that would be ridiculous. It's touching, no matter how unexpected. Heavily medicated Nines Anderson apparently doesn't fuckin care about expectations though, because he squeezes Gavin's hand and pulls it up to his chest, staring down at their clasped fingers curiously. "When did this 'appen?"

"What?" Seriously though, what... exactly is Nines asking about?

"You lettin me touch you and stuff."

"Uh that happened when you started being all touchy-feely?" That probably shouldn't be a question-

Nines is releasing his hand like it's on fire, drawing back and lifting wide eyes to Gavin. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to force you into- I didn't mean to make you do anything you don't…"

Gavin grabs at his detective's fingers, tugging them back down to a comfortable distance and clasping their hands together again without thinking about it. "It's fine, I uh, I kinda like it." A slow smile spreads across Nines' face and it's like a fuckin sunrise with the way it makes those icy blue eyes soften and seem almost warm.

"You got me a present?"

God-fucking-damnit, Gavin's gonna get whiplash from the way Nines is flipping through subjects and steamrolling over feelings Gavin's definitely gonna have to examine later. "Um yeah, kind of, but not right now, I don't have that shit with me. That- that alright?" That smile hasn't dimmed, and Gavin - fuck, yeah, he's having feelings, and he doesn't know what the hell any of them are. All he knows is that fuckin smile belongs in an art gallery or some shit, that's how much it's worth. There's probably some eloquent quotes on the internet about rare things being so much better but he can't think up any better words to express the way it makes him feel - all warm and peaceful. Like damn, Connor uses his soft eyes and his smile to worm his way into tons of places, and Gavin hadn't realized it til now but Nines could totally do the fucking same.

"But you do, you brought it!"

"What?"

Nines rolls his eyes, like it's beyond obvious what he's talking about. His gaze lands back on Gavin though, and it's heavy but not in a bad way, heavy in a much, much better way than it ever has been when focused on him. "You brought your jacket-hoodie-thing."

"Oh! Uh yeah, well you did ask for it, so I brought it. Yeah." He'd pretty much forgotten. How could he have forgotten that the CyberLife jacket was the original reason he'd decided to come back to the hospital tonight? He isn't supposed to forget things- but he glances to Nines' bright, pleased face and that damned smile… Yeah, he can sorta see how that might make it hard to recall properly. "Hey Anderson, here, if you let go of me for a sec, then I can give it to you. That alright?"

Nines blows out a breath, rolls his eyes again, but he releases Gavin's hand, fingers twitching on top of his blanket and the small movement isn't far off from the request to hold hands twelve hours ago. Gavin shrugs out of his jacket quickly, feeling the hood's lining muss up his hair some, not that he really cares. He checks the pockets, just to be sure they're empty, then drops the thing on top of Nines' torso. The man's left hand emerges from under the blanket to grab at the jacket, pulling it towards his face and away from Gavin. His right hand shifts along the bed, fingers fluttering in Gavin's direction.

He reaches out and grasps the hand again. Nines squeezes back as if reinforcing the physical touch and Gavin can't help the small smile that slides onto his own face. "We all good now?" he asks. Nines blinks once, a slow drop of long dark eyelashes to momentarily hide pale eyes, and nods, looking pleased.

Gavin thinks about how he hasn't gotten to any of the apologies he'd intended to make, or an expression of gratitude for basically saving his fucking life. They've been doing pretty well at the whole chatting and not threatening or attacking each other though, so… He's accomplished some of what he planned. He doesn't expect to get to much more with the way his detective has been blinking slower and slower, like sleep is grabbing hold of him once more, but that’s okay. There's- They've got the chance for a next time.

An objective flits across his vision: **|THANK HANK|**

Yeah, he definitely wants to do that, within the next few days preferably. Tina and Chris deserve something too for responding and working quickly and effectively to assist. Maybe not a straight up thanks, but he'll try to give them some slightly more pleasant interactions with him to indicate his appreciation.

"You should go back to sleep," Gavin suggests.

Nines scrunches up his nose, but the expression doesn't last. "Stay for a bit?" he asks, voice small as if he's finally feeling inhibitions about something.

"Yeah yeah Anderson, I'll stay. Got nothing better to do, I can do nothing here just as well as anywhere else." He won't really do nothing, he'll probably do some research, perhaps take a look at some more of the DPD's cold cases that he and Hank have both been working through in their spare time. He'll find a way to occupy himself, and he doesn't at all mind doing it at a hospital bedside with one of his hands claimed by his sleeping partner.

That ~~beautiful~~ smile fades a little as Nines closes his eyes and shifts on the bed, but the man still looks soft and content. Gavin's smile grows. "You gon' do some good detective work while I sleep s'more?"

"Yeah Anderson, I think I will." He's already pulled the DPD off-site portal up again, though he hasn't dived into the archived case files yet. He'll wait on that until he knows his detective is completely asleep.

"You do good work too."

Gavin rolls his eyes, still smiling as he looks over the man. He realizes abruptly, seeing Nines clutching the CyberLife jacket to his chest, that his only other piece of outerwear is a DPD windbreaker. He almost opens his mouth to say something to that effect, but the way the man is starting to curl around the thing makes the words fade in his throat. It isn't so important to disturb the comfort his jacket apparently brings.

\---

When he walks out of the hospital hours later - two hours and thirty-six minutes after Nines had fallen asleep once more - he feels the chilly wind pulling at his hair, at his shirt, and he pushes the sleeves down quickly. It is 33.7 degrees out now, colder than when they had brought Nines in last night.

He thinks again about how one of his two jackets is in a hospital bed behind him.

He thinks about the stares he's going to get in his current outfit, even after people notice the LED whirring soft blue or processing yellow at his temple. Most androids dress for the weather, and most androids do not have the same tolerance for cold that he does. Still, it would only take approximately thirty-one-point-five hours for this temperature to have any lasting adverse effects on his systems.

At a random prompt, he brings up an image, time-stamped seventy-three minutes ago from memory, and he feels a barely used expression work its way onto his face. It's… a fucking smile again, at the virtual sight of Richard Keenan Anderson's tall, usually intimidating frame curled up around a black-and-white CyberLife uniform jacket proclaiming **ANDROID** , and **NK900** trading off every few seconds with **REED**.

He thinks that the warm fuzzy _feeling_ he has at the sight is all that matters at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like Gav doesn't have a ton of clothing at this point? mostly because he hasn't taken much time to explore what he actually likes/wants, so he tends to automatical fall back on the RK900 CyberLife uniform (with a plain Tee traded for that ridiculous high-necked shirt) or the police android uniform (which I visualize as fairly close to the same as what the basic patrollers/aides wear in-game)  
> also omg i kept finding places where it felt right to write 'his detective' and ahhhh feels (also before the event/s of this fic, Gav hasn't really expressed fondness or affection for Nines, which is why Hank and Con share a look in Ch 4 when Gav says 'my partner')  
> i think this is the end for this work!! i've got one thing (and a half) written up, just trying to decide whether to post it on its own or as a chapter to one of the other works... we shall see
> 
> wow okay I feel like I finally found Gav's voice here?! can't believe it took me so long, but hey.  
> also I feel like this is now a pretty good setup for "Breaking Routine" sooo that's another good thing


End file.
